


Strong enough to trust

by Enmuse (Scifiroots)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Decisions, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Bucky Barnes-centric, Civil War Team Iron Man, Confessions, Developing Relationship, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Memory Related, Mind Manipulation, Nicknames, Not Steve Friendly, Not Wanda Friendly, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Rogers is not a good bro, Team Bonding, Tony Stark Feels, What happened to Tony?, video game references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-22 19:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13771431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scifiroots/pseuds/Enmuse
Summary: Steve makes a life-altering choice, and Bucky wakes up from cryostasis to better circumstances than he could anticipate: Mind free of triggers, name cleared, fully pardoned, and a ticket back to the USA. It's far more than he deserves, but with no other plans or ties, he finds himself relocating to the Avengers Initiative Compound alongside Stevie's rogue superheroes.He begins establishing a new life - friends, work, maybe even love - but doesn't realize that the castles he is painstakingly building are ones in the sky.---"I... don't understand," Bucky admits in a murmur.Stark's gaze drops to the silver-plated shoulder. "I fix things," he says. His fingers drum restlessly against his chest. "And this is something I broke. You shouldn't have to just live with the consequences when something can be done about it."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ali_aliska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ali_aliska/gifts).



> I started writing this with the intent that _maybe_ it would cap at 10k. Turned out three times that. I started it before Aliska's birthday and while she's been along for the ride as I wrote it (through good times and bad) this is over a month late. u_u 
> 
> Title comes from one of the lines in The Offspring's "Trust in You" that stood out to me: _But I'm willing to find what's really inside And show I am strong enough to trust in you_ ... _I want to move on I want to have hope So I'm willing to change I'm going to try_
> 
> THANK YOU to [Skye_wyr](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Skye_wyr) for beta'ing and sharing amazing reactions that really got me excited about posting this. She went into this essentially blind. (I warned that there was a fair amount of salt in the story's inspiration and assured there was a happy ending.)
> 
>  **Warning, maybe?** This isn't Steve or Wanda friendly. It's not bashing, either.
> 
> Canon-compliant through CA:CW, ignores anything that followed. While mutants aren't outright mentioned, they do exist in this 'verse, as Kitty Pryde's appearance proves.

This isn't something Steve takes pleasure in doing. He never would have anticipated he would end up here.

At Steve's side, Wanda flicks her fingers in a beckoning motion signaling it's okay to continue forward. Steve nods tightly as he steps in front of her and starts down the hall. They pass a few nurses doing their night rounds as they check in on patients. No one casts them more than a passing glance and a distracted smile.

Steve stops abruptly outside the door they've been looking for. He glances sidelong at Wanda, a shaky part of him needing confirmation that they're in the right place. He isn't sure if he wants it to be right.

Wanda cocks her head to the side, gaze going distant for a few moments. When she refocuses, she looks up at Steve and nods. Steve can't help but focus on the dark bruises beneath her eyes and the tension that pulls her features tight. She hasn't relaxed but for a few minutes here and there since the Raft.

Steve turns the door handle and steps inside the dark room. Street lamps filter through closed blinds, the only light once Wanda steps inside and closes the door behind them. She stands at his side, waiting for his next move.

The quiet beeps of monitoring equipment don't mask the way his breath catches. For a mortifying moment, Steve is sure he'll start coughing. A thread of doubt tries to wrap around his throat. 

The tips of his fingers tingle. Cold. The breath he sucks in feels like ice.

His vision adjusting to the dark, he slowly moves towards the lone occupied bed. He hears Wanda trailing cautiously after him. Once he reaches his destination, Steve looks down at a pale face occasionally lit by the slow-pulsing light of the equipment at the bedside.

His vision flickers as the sensation of frost fills his chest. Bucky's wry smile meets Steve's worried gaze. Bucky's eyes close as he tips his head back and the window of the cryogenic tube slowly ices over. Steve blinks quickly and instead of his best friend, he's left staring at Tony Stark's bruised face.

 _Battered,_ his mind whispers. He flinches back from the accusation.

Even in sleep — likely a drugged one, given the IV drip — Tony's expression is lined with tension. He looks so much older than Steve can remember seeing before. 

Wanda murmurs quietly, "You could have finished this."

Steve glances at her sharply, a reprimand at the tip of his tongue. The young woman is staring down at Tony with an almost vacant gaze. Steve releases a long breath as the words he'd readied slip away. Instead, he shakes his head a little and replies quietly, "I don't want that. I _never_ wanted that."

"He tried to kill you," Wanda says, a spark of life entering her eyes; a faint red glow emanates from her exposed skin. She looks up at Steve with a firm set to her mouth. "It would have been self-defense."

Her words unsettle him, and Steve has to look away quickly. Tony's face is worse to look at, so he lets his gaze wander to the monitor. It continues to feel like ice is crawling through his veins. He sees Bucky leaning back, frost crawling over the window to obscure his face. Steve hears the whine of Iron Man's jet boots and the hum of the repulsors firing. Clanging metal, sparks flying, the punched-out sound of bitten back pain. Bucky collapsing, arm missing.

Steve swallows hard. His resolve firms as he brushes aside his doubts. He turns to face Wanda and looks down at her with what he hopes is a reassuring expression. He regrets asking this of her.

"Are you okay doing this?" he asks gently.

Wanda's fingers curl into fists, red light growing brighter. Her mouth sets in a grim line as she nods.

Steve inhales deeply and looks down at Tony. "Like we talked about," he tells Wanda with a firm nod. He watches her hands lift above Tony's head, red tendrils drifting through the air. He tries not to compare them to snakes as he quietly directs her.

When they leave, they almost collide with the nurse going in to check on Tony. She doesn't seem to notice as she adjusts her trajectory to move around Steve. They leave the building without a single person saying a word to them. Steve focuses on navigating them out of the parking lot and onto the German roadway. He has no time to look back. They have to move forward.

~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky comes out of cryostasis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the positive responses and support! ♥ I really love hearing your reactions. I hope you enjoy!

**18 months later**

He drifts at the edge of consciousness as blood begins to flow again through his veins. His entire body seems to tingle with the resumed circulation — even his ears and the tip of his nose. He could push himself to consciousness, shrug back his body's weaknesses, strain himself to face the waking world. However, his last memory is of Steve's hopeful smile and hesitant eyes. Beyond their little exchange, several Wakandan medical and science personnel had been working peacefully. 

He doesn't need to wake up yet. So Bucky drifts.

When Bucky eventually awakens fully and opens his eyes, Steve is sitting at his bedside staring intently at a thin tablet. His brow is furrowed in concentration, and as Bucky watches silently, Steve sucks his lower lip between his teeth. 

"Whatchu reading?"

Steve startles at Bucky's low voice. The blond fumbles the tablet, almost dropping it as his face clears and wide eyes turn to Bucky. A wide smile spreads across Steve's lips as he leans forward, tablet abandoned at the foot of the bed.

"Hey sleepyhead, how d'you feel?"

Bucky shrugs and has to quickly mask a wince at the reminder that he's down to one arm. He does his best to keep a pained expression off his face. He knows Steve would read it as physical pain, inspire that anger that had continued to bubble up whenever he looked at the stump of Bucky's metal arm before he'd gone back to cryo. It isn't that, though. Guilt and resignation weigh heavily in Bucky's chest. What is the loss of an arm compared to—

"Should I get the doctor in here now?" Steve asks. "She said things were looking good but wanted to see you when you woke up."

Bucky offers a small, reassuring smile. "Might as well get it over with." Steve makes a face as he stretches to push a button on the side table. Neither man has been particularly thrilled by the focus of doctors.

As they wait, Bucky asks, "What's happened?" He doesn't think this is an emergency situation, given Steve's demeanor. He hopes his friend didn't wake him up just for the hell of it, though. Bucky was serious when he asked to only be woken if they found a way to clear up the minefield of his conditioned brain.

Steve's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, though he seems sincere with his happiness as he says, "Things got cleared up with the United Nations and with the US government. We can go home."

Bucky keeps his breathing and heartbeat steady somehow, limiting the ability of the monitor at the bedside to broadcast his reaction. It should be good news. But there are too many possibilities for the details of that statement for him to take Steve's words at face value. He pushes aside the uncertainty he feels at the word "home."

The doctor, a stout middle-aged woman with graying hair and bright eyes behind a pair of bright blue glasses, bustles into the room. She smiles politely as she nudges Steve out of the way and focuses on Bucky. "Mr. Barnes," she greets as she pulls a penlight from her pocket. "How are you feeling? Can you sit up on your own?"

"Yes," he answers as he pushes himself upright. He can tell that he'll need a little time to adjust to the different balance of his body without the heavy weight of his metal arm. "I feel... rested," he says with a small shrug.

The doctor grins as she shines the light in his eyes. "You slept longer than I anticipated, given your body's abilities. It sounds like perhaps you just needed the rest." Bucky feels his lips twitch in wry amusement. "I'm going to have us go through the same series of checks we did before you entered cryostasis. Remember what those were?"

Bucky nods immediately — pretty standard stuff. He imagines he'll have to see the psychiatrist again, too.

"Any problems I should know about right away? Or any questions?"

"No, ma'am," he says.

The doctor snorts inelegantly, her eyes squinting as she smiles at him. "Dr. Xolela or Khunjulwa, if you please, Mr. Barnes."

"I'm sorry," he apologizes with a small grimace. She shakes her head, still smiling. He looks past her to where Steve is hovering, uncertain expression on his face. "I'm fine, Stevie. Knowing you, you've been lurking around here way too much. Go. You can come back later."

"But what about—"

"I'm _fine_ ," Bucky repeats firmly.

Khunjulwa waves a hand at Steve. "He's right, and it's easier to get through this quickly without you looking over my shoulder. Shoo. You can share all the news with him later."

Steve lets out a sigh of defeat. "Alright. I'll be back soon, Buck." He picks up his tablet. He starts toward the door, only to stop and suddenly hurry back to Bucky's side. "I'm so glad you're here," he murmurs as he leans in to squeeze Bucky's shoulder. 

Bucky gives another reassuring smile and pats Steve's hand. "Not going anywhere, punk. Now scram."

Steve chuckles and this time makes it out the door.

"He's certainly looking better," Khunjulwa remarks as she pulls a stethoscope from her pocket. "He did an amazing impression of a forlorn puppy the past few days."

Bucky scratches at his chin, the itch of his lengthened beard stubble reminding him that shaving should be high on his priority list. "I thought things were looking okay?"

She helps Bucky lift up his shirt. "I believe he missed you."

Bucky follows her instructions as she moves the stethoscope around his chest and back. When she nods and puts it away, he asks, "How long's it been?"

He worries for a moment that she won't tell him, given her lengthy pause. She doesn't disappoint, though; "Welcome to 2018, Mr. Barnes."

~

"Sergeant Barnes," T'challa calls from down the hall. Bucky pauses with his hand on the door that will let him onto a broad balcony overlooking one of the palace's gardens. "Good afternoon," the king greets when Bucky turns to face him. "I heard you wished to speak with me. I have some time, if now is amenable."

"Thank you, your Highness," Bucky says with a nod. "D'you mind if we talk outside?"

T'challa smiles. "It has been a while since you've had fresh air." He gestures for Bucky to take the lead. As they step outside, he adds, "You may call me T'challa. Formality isn't necessary between us."

"Alright," Bucky agrees, somewhat distracted by the heavy jungle air. "You can drop the 'Sergeant' — haven't been one in a long time. You can call me..." he trails off when a name doesn't instinctively roll of his tongue. He stares blindly at a flowering tree beyond the balcony's ledge as he struggles with the matter of his name. T'challa doesn't speak, for which he's grateful; Bucky can pretend his pause isn't taking too long. It _shouldn't_ take so long; his memories seem more or less intact, he knows who he is. Even so, he lacks confidence when he finally continues, "Bucky. You can... call me Bucky."

"As you wish."

Bucky glances at the king from the corner of his eye. T'challa is watching him with a thoughtful look but doesn't press on the subject.

"What did you wish to speak with me about?" T'challa asks as he moves to lean against the balcony railing.

Bucky joins him, leaning his hand on the railing. "I have some questions." He explains, "Steve kinda ran roughshod over anyone else's explanation."

He thinks he sees T'challa's lips twitch before he responds. "Ah. I'll do my best to provide you with the information I know."

"The political... mess. How did that get cleared up?"

T'challa looks amused as he turns his head towards Bucky. "I'll assume you don't want the minute details." He smiles before Bucky can answer. "In summary, the United Nations established a special counsel to investigate the various events and persons that interfered with the initial proposal. As certain things came to light, revisions began. Representatives from around the world from a variety of organizations — including NGOs in addition to government and law enforcement leaders — spoke. Numerous enhanced individuals appeared voluntarily before the counsel."

"Did anyone here go?" Bucky asks.

"I'm afraid that the group remained fugitives at the time and would have risked imprisonment. Their concerns were echoed by others, however. I attended, as did the remaining Avengers."

Bucky arches an eyebrow. "And somehow pardons still came through?"

T'challa's expression closes off. "Making sure that the corrupt parties influencing the initial proposal were no longer pulling the strings happened to be the number one priority of Mr. Stark and Ms. Romanov. They were also key in testifying to clear up the events surrounding Helmut Zemo. Your name was cleared over a year ago, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky opens his mouth, sure that he should respond, but no words come. He settles for a little nod as he looks away from the king's piercing stare.

After a few moments of silence, T'challa sighs. "I apologize... Bucky. I forget that you may have yet to form your own opinions of those involved. It has been... trying, at times, to present the facts without emotions running high." After a pause, he adds, "Myself included."

Although he hasn't been awake long, Bucky can tell much of the venomous feelings have bled out from Steve's little band of exiles. In its place seems to be wariness about their destination once they leave Wakanda. Most seem to have cautious hope of their return home. Sam had seemed the most eager. Maximoff had curled her lip when conditions were mentioned. 

"I'm still in the dark about a lot of it," Bucky admits quietly. "But it's not hard to see how everyone's still worked up over things." T'challa hums in agreement. "So... the UN came up with some sort of revised rules?"

"Another proposal," T'challa says. "Something of a trial run, you might think of it. This was never meant to be rushed through, but there were many factors in play. Much of the world understands that there are greater threats than we ever imagined, however, and we do need to have some way to address them if they occur. There is an international oversight committee in the event that crossing into foreign nations is required. Individual countries are tasked with coming up with their own rules when it comes to matters within their own borders. As the revision hearings continue, more and more enhanced individuals have come to light. It has eased some of the tension now that the individuals in question are not only a group of Americans." He tilts his head towards Bucky as he points out, "I hope you can understand how countries like my own would be... uncomfortable with the sudden appearance of a group headed by the American flag and the poster-boy for Western indulgence."

Bucky winces at that. The world has changed greatly from when he was a child; it is both larger and smaller, but nations continue to closely monitor their borders and bristle at outside interference. "Put that way, it's kind of a wonder it took as long as it did to come to a head."

T'challa huffs a laugh. "True. It is my hope that now we are finally moving in the right direction. We shall see."

Sensing that he has the general picture of what has been happening with the Accords, Bucky proceeds to his next question. "How did the US pardons come through? And I'm not clear on the restrictions that seem to go along with them."

"Ah. I admit, I'm surprised that you did not get a full list of the conditions." Bucky shrugs. He may have a general idea, but he senses that T'challa is a more unbiased source for that information if he wants the details. "In regards to the _how_ , I'm not privy to the details, being uninvolved in American politics. As I understand it, hearings occurred mostly behind closed doors with a special panel. There are press briefings, if you are interested. Ultimately, the president approved the return of the Captain and his group. The return includes something of a probation period, however, as further details regarding the national and international legalities are sorted out in relation to the Accords."

"And if there's an emergency?"

"A point that the current Avengers raised. I believe there are provisions in place," T'challa replies. "Most of the group faces a probationary period of six months. I believe the details are more complicated and the probation period is longer for Ms. Maximoff, given her status as a refugee."

Bucky frowns. "Refugee?" Her accent is thick enough to make him think that she wasn't natively born or raised in the United States, but he hasn't heard her story. He doesn't know what she was fleeing from.

T'challa glances at him thoughtfully. "A story you will have to hear from someone else, if you are so inclined. I can only speculate. Needless to say, it is not the situation she had hoped for."

Bucky has the next question on the tip of his tongue when T'challa continues, "You'll find that your own pardon involves fewer limitations."

"Excuse me?" Bucky gives the king an incredulous look. If anything, he should have additional restrictions.

"A detailed document is available to you. I'll ensure a copy is brought to your room. Most of the requirements involve working on a treatment plan."

"To make sure I won't go off the rails," Bucky mutters reluctantly. He bows his head so he can't see T'challa's expression. "Actually, that's my big question. Steve didn't want me going under in the first place, so...?" He can't help but doubt that Steve somehow had him pulled out of cryo early.

"I assure you, Bucky, that to the best of our ability and understanding, the Hydra triggers are removed." T'challa speaks gently. "I believe your doctors will start working with you shortly to ensure things are progressing smoothly. Dr. Khunjulwa didn't wish to rush you. Since you have exhibited no signs of threat, I believe she has given you a few days to adjust."

Bucky inhales shakily and closes his eyes on the exhale. "How?"

With a chuckle, T'challa says, "I'm afraid the details moved somewhat out of my depth. _Very_ skilled and knowledgeable individuals worked closely with a couple volunteers of your countrymen to come up with an ingenious solution to work on deprogramming while you slept. Khunjulwa can fill you in on some of the details."

Bucky chews on the inside of his lip as he considers the king's words. He wonders if the avoidance of names is purposeful. He watches T'challa from the corner of his eye as he asks, "Who volunteered?" Hell, who even knew where he was?

T'challa hesitates a moment, lips pressing together. "Dr. Stark and a Dr. Stephen Strange," he says shortly. When Bucky doesn't reply, he continues, "Dr. Strange was a renowned brain surgeon, although his recent ventures have carried him elsewhere. Dr. Stark brought him in for consultation and despite him ruffling feathers with some of the team overseeing your treatment, he proved invaluable. Dr. Stark assisted with much of the technological aspect." T'challa looks slightly put out by that, perhaps because of Wakanda's prided advanced technological capabilities. "In short, you have a group of dedicated individuals to thank for your current status."

"I'd like to make sure I get to thank everyone," Bucky says without pause. "I'm grateful. For everything. I... I'm not sure I deserved all that investment." He turns and waits until he makes eye contact to continue. "Thank you for your generosity. I wish there was a way I could pay you back."

T'challa cocks his head to the side. "You are welcome. In terms of compensation, I ask only that you weigh your choices carefully going forward. I believe this is a second chance for you, one that has not come lightly." His expression is shadowed with a tired weight of loss and guilt. "I would also ask your forgiveness for my blind pursuit of you in the name of revenge."

Bucky shakes his head. "No forgiveness necessary," he says immediately. He feels like something's lodged in his chest as a horrified, grief-stricken face appears in his mind. _"You killed my mother!"_ Bucky can't stop the way his gaze skitters away from the king's.

"Grief is a powerful thing," T'challa murmurs, "but it still does not excuse all the damage I caused. I have paid for my actions, or so I have been told. It is something that continues to trouble me. Seeing you awake eases some of that, however."

They stand in silence for a while, both turning back to face the gardens. Eventually T'challa asks, "Do you have any further questions?"

"No. Thanks for all the information. You said you have the official pardon for me? Could I get a copy of the current Accords, too?"

T'challa nods with a smile. "Of course. I will request you receive the materials before dinnertime. Please don't hesitate to ask for me again. I am busy, but it is not too difficult to find some time to slip away."

Bucky nods and accepts the handshake that T'challa proffers — even if he feels like he ought to bow. By the amused expression on the king's face, he's read Bucky's mind. 

T'challa returns inside, leaving Bucky alone to think over all of the information he just received. 

~

Bucky feels uneasy as he looks out the car window. The small caravan of vehicles drive out onto the runway to where a familiar aircraft is waiting for them.

"It's Nat!" Steve exclaims, smile in his voice. He leans partway over Bucky to get a better look. "I didn't know she'd be coming."

Lang turns around in the front seat, expression skeptical. "You think she's happy to see us?"

Bucky studies Romanov, who's standing at the foot of the loading ramp dressed in her uniform and wearing a pair of sunglasses. Her arms are crossed casually, and although her head turns to watch their progress, neither expression nor stance changes. Bucky can understand Lang's hesitance.

"She's... not the most expressive," Steve says. A quick glance reveals that his smile has dimmed.

When the vehicles park, King T'challa is the first to step out. Romanov uncrosses her arms as she approaches with a slight bow. Bucky doesn't open the door until Steve and Lang set foot on the tarmac. He joins Lang at the trunk to remove his bag filled with a few changes of clothes, a copy of his pardon, the doctors' reports, and the Accords. Steve heads straight to the redhead, a hopeful smile on his face. Bucky straps his bag across his chest before hauling up Steve's bags. No one has much to bring along, having relied on the generosity of Wakanda's king to borrow most things during their stay.

Bucky finds himself in the company of Lang and Maximoff as they hang back. Steve's the first to reach Romanov, but Barton and Sam are quick behind. Barton passes into her personal space before coming to an abrupt halt, expression uncertain. Romanov allows the briefest of smiles, apparently a sign of permission for him to wrap her in a tight hug. She pats his back during the brief exchange before they both step back. Sam extends his hand to her, looking hopeful. She shakes his hand without hesitation. It's Steve who she stares at for a long, drawn-out pause before accepting his hand.

"We didn't know you were coming," Sam says. "It's great to see you!"

"There was a late change of plans. Do you have everything?"

Bucky lifts up Steve's bags when his friend turns around. He decides he might as well move forward. When he's close, he tosses Steve one of the bags while he keeps the other.

"Thanks." Steve half turns to gesture between Romanov and Bucky. "You remember Natasha?"

Bucky can't see her eyes, but he can tell she's meeting his stare as he focuses on her. They give each other polite nods, neither alluding to a time they met prior Steve.

"I hear congratulations are in order," she says.

"Thank you." Bucky steps back, trying to ignore that it feels a little like retreating.

"Just you?" Barton asks, peering at the ramp with a hint of wariness.

Natasha's eyebrow arches but she doesn't comment on his reaction. "Just me."

Sam's the first to start thanking T'challa, and what follows is a repeat of the expressions of gratitude given at the palace earlier.

Barton heads up the ramp into the quinjet, the others following until only Steve lingers with the king and Natasha. Bucky finds his steps slowing to a pause when he's halfway up.

Steve starts, "Where are we—"

"You know where, Steve," Natasha says with a stifled sigh. "First month you're restricted to the Compound, as per the stipulations of the pardon."

"Isn't that thinly veiled house arrest?" the blond asks wryly. Natasha doesn't answer, staring at him silently. "That's not—"

"Don't tell me it isn't fair, Steve. We got off lightly — _all_ of us. I did my own time, now it's your turn."

"Captain," T'challa intervenes with a smooth voice, "you've had the opportunity to examine the details and agreed to them."

Steve nods reluctantly. "You're right, I'm sorry." He rubs the back of his neck. "Guess I'm wondering a bit about our reception. We've, uh, had some trouble getting through..."

Bucky remembers Sam announcing glumly at breakfast the other day that _"Rhodey doesn't want to talk until we're back."_

"We wouldn't be headed to the Compound if you weren't welcomed." She continues, voice gentling, "But it's been some time, Steve. Be prepared for big changes."

T'challa extends his hand to Steve in a farewell handshake. "Captain, I wish you safe travels. Ms. Romanov, a pleasure to see you again." He shakes Natasha's hand before stepping back. "Please tell Mr. Stark I'm well aware that he's been ducking my calls all week. He's trying my patience." The amused slant of his lips belies his words, however; Natasha looks similarly amused.

"I'll remind him. I'll get this group out of your hair, now. Come on, Steve, time to go." She pats his shoulder, the last thing Bucky sees before he hurries the rest of the way up the ramp.

~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Good afternoon, Mr. Lang, Mr. Barnes," a female voice greets from the room at large. An artificial intelligence, Steve had told Bucky. Its — her? — voice seems decidedly cooler when she says, "Hello. Others."_
> 
> Tony finally appears, Bucky's trying to sort himself out, and he makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♥ Your comments are awesome - thanks so much! It's great to hear predictions and find out that mystery elements are working out.

After landing and completing some necessary paperwork, Natasha leads the group out onto the landing pad. When Steve detours to the edge of the platform, Bucky follows. Natasha waits at the door that leads inside. She watches as the group spreads out to get a better view of the Avengers Compound now that they've landed. She doesn't seem impatient, as if she had anticipated them getting sidetracked.

"It's grown," Sam notes quietly, a look of regret passing quickly over his face. "A lot."

Lang scratches absently at the back of his head. "I'll take your word for it. It was all kinda... ginormous when I was here."

Sam looks over at him with a smirk. "It would be, Tic-tac."

"Hey! Now I could take one step from one building to the next if I wanted!" Lang protests. _"If I had the suit,"_ remains unsaid.

"There's... so many people here now," Steve murmurs as he stares down at a mostly full parking lot situated in front of a long and squat building. In addition to the tower where they're standing, two additional buildings fill in the central space of the large, cleared plain of the Compound; the area is surrounded by trees. Bucky wonders how the security is laid out, given the open nature of the perimeter.

Barton walks back to Natasha without commenting, his expression the least troubled of the Compound's former residents. Sam shrugs a little, then turns to steer Lang towards the door. Maximoff drifts after them, frowning to herself.

"You alright, Steve?" he asks quietly.

"Sure... it's fine." Steve attempts a small smile, though it's strained. "I knew it wasn't exactly just a residence anymore but..." One shoulder lifts in an awkward shrug.

It isn't the home Steve remembered; Bucky can read between the lines. He hopes the blond will look to Sam or someone else who might be able to relate to that feeling. Bucky... no longer remembers what it feels like to truly consider a place "home." 

With a heavy sigh, Steve turns around. They join the others and head inside.

Natasha leads them through a window-lined hallway at ground level that connects to a twelve-story building. As they approach the end of the hall, she slows their pace and turns to face them. Her gaze, now visible after discarding her sunglasses, carefully scans over everyone's faces.

"We're heading into the residences where you have a couple hours to settle in before you need to meet for an orientation. You're spread out on different floors. Keep in mind you'll be seeing some unfamiliar faces. In total there are fifteen additional full-time residents with others rotating depending on work shifts."

"Is there a place to get some dinner?" Lang asks hopefully. "Long trip, no in-flight dining..."

"There are several shared kitchens available to use. Eating would be a good idea." Natasha quirks a small smirk. "Your orientation also lacks food."

"Damn, one of _those_ meetings," Lang mutters with an exaggerated eye-roll. He makes a face when Sam elbows him.

"Now it's only fair to warn you..." Natasha says as she halts them a few feet from the doors. "The only fanfare reception you'll find is in front of the press — PR will explain the schedule. You won't find a universally warm welcome. I suggest not pressing the issue," she warns, gaze sharp. Bucky doesn't miss how she rests a pointed stare on both Sam and Steve for several moments; she shoots a briefer look at Clint.

"I'll show you where to drop off your things and point you in the direction of a kitchen," she says as she turns to the doors and pushes inside.

Even though Bucky can't see past her at first, he sees her shoulders dip in resignation; he guesses that something, or someone, was not supposed to be present. Bucky feels a tingle of unease as he falls back behind Steve.

Someone claps their hands together, and the voice that follows is familiar before Bucky sees his face. "You made good time. Great! Any turbulence? There shouldn't be, the latest model is supposed to handle just about anything." Tony Stark stands beside a long couch in the lobby area with a movie-star smile, just a hint of teeth. He's dressed halfway casual, dark fitted trousers with a graphic tee and a sports jacket over it. "How much of the greeting spiel did you give, Natasha?"

"It's taken care of, Tony," she says with a small shake of her head — a show, Bucky thinks, as he notes her tiny smile. Her eyes have gone a bit flat, though.

"Hmm. Whatever you say." Stark spreads his arms in a gesture meant to encompass... everything, Bucky supposes. "Welcome, and welcome back. Things have picked up in the past couple years. Let a few people come to visit and suddenly we can't get rid of them. But you'll get those boring details through an orientation — not my idea, I assure you." An elevator dings on the other side of the room's central column. Stark turns his head to the side with a wry smile. "You can blame the guy coming around the corner right about..." Bucky hears a strange, quiet sound of gears whirring and the slide of something mechanical coinciding with a man's footsteps. "Now," Stark says with perfect timing.

The man who turns the corner is already directing an exasperated look Stark's way. Bucky thinks his face is vaguely familiar, but he can't recall a name. The way Sam smiles hesitantly has him guessing that this may be "Rhodey," however. As Bucky's gaze drops to the man's legs, where that strange mechanical sound is coming from, he solidifies his guess. Rhodes had sustained a permanent injury during the clash in Germany. Regret and guilt curl low in Bucky's stomach as his eye catches sight of the slim metal and plastic struts running alongside Rhodes' ankles.

"You can't blame everything on me, Tony," Rhodes says without heat. His expression cools as his gaze sweeps over the gathered group. He doesn't pause until he's at Stark's side, and his stance makes him look like a bodyguard. Part of Bucky wants to bristle in response, but the rest of him wishes he could slip out of sight to whatever room he's supposed to get.

"Jesse will be waiting for you here at four o'clock," Rhodes announces, no greeting offered. "You have a few hours to look around the living spaces and grab some food."

"I have it on good authority that there's plenty of pizza on the sixth floor," Stark inserts.

"If you want something else, there are kitchens available. Ask Friday before taking something in case it belongs to someone." Rhodes glances between Lang and Bucky. "Friday is—"

"Available pretty much everywhere on Compound grounds," Tony finishes. He flashes a quick smile. "Fri, baby? Say hello to the newbs."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lang, Mr. Barnes," a female voice greets from the room at large. An artificial intelligence, Steve had told Bucky. Its — her? — voice seems decidedly cooler when she says, "Hello. Others." Stark flinches, so quickly that Bucky isn't sure anyone else noticed.

"Uh... hi?" Lang returns, eyes darting around before awkwardly waving.

Sam hesitantly greets, "Hi, Friday. Good to hear your voice again." A pointed silence follows.

Rhodes steps in before it gets too awkward. "You're on three different floors. Natasha, you take seven and eight, I take nine?"

Tony glares at his friend and quietly grinds out, "I know what you're doing, and I don't need you to."

"We've got this, Tones. I know you have work to do," Rhodes answers calmly, his expression a little too clear to be genuine.

"That's a damn dirty lie," Tony mutters, but the way he crosses his arms and leans back suggests there's at least some truth to it. "Fine. Have at it. Plenty of pizza available. Don't upset the locals, there's college students up there, and they eat like they'll never see food again."

Rhodes rolls his eyes with a small smile as he steps away. "You're exaggerating. Barton, Wilson, come with me."

Tony calls at his friend's back, "Kitty almost stabbed my hand with a fork last week! I am _not_ exaggerating."

"They'll survive," Natasha assures as she passes Tony, patting his shoulder. "Go be a genius. I may as well finish my herding duties."

Lang looks uncertain if he should take offense to that as he trails after her. Maximoff's lips are pursed in a tight frown as she steers clear around Stark with a dark glare. Bucky waits for Steve to move, not ashamed to admit to himself that he's hoping his friend's bulk might shelter him. He has a suspicion that he's only at the Avengers Compound because the others are here; he doubts it would be a personal invite. Steve doesn't move, though, even as the trio moves further away and Natasha frowns over her shoulder.

"Tony..." Steve starts. He huffs a weak laugh. "Um, thanks. It's good to be... back. There's so much to— Well, we should talk."

Stark's smile is back to movie-star perfect, although smaller now. "There'll be time later. There's a lot to do. Lots of things to catch up on, better to get that out of the way." He looks aside, lips parting to speak before he shakes his head a little and hesitates. 

Steve sighs quietly and finally takes a step in the direction of the elevators. Natasha's the only one still in sight, her eyes narrowed as she watches the scene. Bucky ducks his head and follows Steve's slow pace in order to remain semi-hidden (or at least he pretends to be).

"Oh!" Stark exclaims, causing Steve to come to an abrupt halt. Bucky grimaces as he bumps into his friend's shoulder. He decides to give up on hiding and continues past, towards the elevator. When he casts a covert glance back, he's baffled by Stark's amusement as he watches Bucky.

"What is it?" Steve asks.

"Right. I, uh, almost forgot. Which is ridiculous. It should be obvious, I mean I carried the damn thing down here."

Bucky stops beside Natasha and turns to look back, unable to resist his curiosity. He feels his eyes widen in surprise as he watches Stark lean down to pick up the red, white, and blue shield leaning against the back of the couch.

Steve's eyes light up hopefully as Tony lifts it up. The dark-haired man's smile is a little crooked, uncertain, as he holds it out. Steve eagerly steps forward to take the shield, a smile brightening his expression.

Tony chuckles, an uncomfortable sound, as he scratches the back of his neck. His eyes keep flicking to the shield and then away. "I mean, it's yours. I have to admit, it made me kinda uneasy having it. Weird, huh?" He laughs a little again and absently taps his fingers against his chest in what seems like old habit. He shakes his head and looks up at Steve, whose expression has frozen, smile no longer reaching his eyes. Tony turns away with a shrug. "Just doesn't seem right to see it without you attached, I guess."

"Yeah..." Steve says faintly.

Bucky has to look away. He swallows back the sick taste threatening to rise up his throat. His ears ring with the sound of clanging metal and vibranium. His left shoulder tingles, a flash of painful memory bringing a moment of phantom pain. He can see the silhouettes again — backlit with cold, cold white light and blurred from his pain: Steve kneeling, straddling the downed armored figure with his shield raised. He can't remember if Stark had his hand up; Bucky isn't sure which way would be worse.

Natasha is watching him carefully when Bucky blinks back to the present. 

Their silent moment is broken as Steve approaches. She leads them upstairs without further interruption.

~

Bucky mostly keeps to himself after the required orientation of the first day is done. He has more than enough space to do whatever he wants in the private suite he's been granted. Without personal touches, the front office/sitting room combo looks spartan. The bedroom and bathroom are minimal as well, and Bucky has nothing to fill any of them. It feels ludicrous to unpack his bag; all of his clothes fit in a single wardrobe drawer with room to spare.

He shares the seventh floor with four other suites and a basic kitchen. Steve is next to him and further down is Natasha. Opposite them are suites for two of the "college kids" who don't live here full time.

Steve tries to coax him into exploring the Compound beyond the introductory tour. Bucky successfully turns him down, although he submits to a few meals where mostly it's members of the former exiles. Natasha is around, twice, and Bucky sees a handful of people over the course of the meals who Steve doesn't know but are now residents.

By the end of the first week, Bucky has a basic routine established. Shortly after dawn finds him stripped down to his sweats as he stretches and exercises in his sitting room. 

"Excuse me," Friday speaks to him for the first time in his rooms since the first day.

Bucky's gaze flicks toward the subtle camera in the corner of the room as he continues his push-ups. "Yeah?"

"It seems that you enjoy physical activity..." the AI remarks, her voice trailing off like a human's. She doesn't continue.

Bucky prompts, "And?"

"Well, there are better suited locations available in the Compound. Agent Newell provided the information on Tuesday."

Bucky flips onto his back to begin crunches. "Yes, I know. I'm fine here."

He thinks that will be the end of it when Friday is silent for the next five minutes.

He's wrong.

"If you prefer privacy, there are small rooms available for reservation off the Avengers training gym. They're available 24-7."

Good to know, but it doesn't really address the discomfort he feels at being here. Although, he isn't sure where he _should_ be.

"I'm not an Avenger," he decides to point out.

There's a small change in the AI's voice that gives away annoyance, and Bucky finds himself suppressing a smile while she argues with him. "Residents have access after-hours to many of the Compound's facilities otherwise reserved for Avengers. Even if that was not the case, Mr. Barnes, you're cleared for access to most places."

Bucky stops, letting himself lay flat on the floor as he frowns up at the ceiling. "I'm what?"

"Well, you'll need to read and sign some non-disclosure privacy forms in regards to some areas, but you're clear to access most areas on Compound grounds. Restrictions basically fall to matters of safety and private offices and workrooms. The information and paperwork is on your tablet."

Bucky tilts his head back to glance at the desk where a tablet sits, unused. He's limited himself to the phone he'd been issued. He hesitates to use anything else until he can figure out how to stop taking things as charity and find some way to earn them.

"I can transfer it all to your phone first, if you insist," Friday says when he doesn't reply; she sounds miffed about the idea.

Bucky opens his mouth, intending to deny this new information, maybe insist that there's been some mistake. Instead he admits, "I don't understand."

"Well..." Friday lets the silence sit for a minute. "Can I ask you a question, first?" she asks.

"Uh, go 'head," Bucky allows. He crosses his arm behind his head and lets his legs sprawl out since it doesn't seem he'll be getting back to his exercise soon.

"Should I use Sergeant or Mister for your address?"

The question catches Bucky by surprise. He struggles with an answer, just as he has every time he has to introduce himself now. His most recent run-ins with new people during meals luckily had Steve stepping in to introduce "Bucky."

"It doesn't really matter to me," he tells the AI. "Keep using 'mister' if you want."

"That wasn't very helpful," she chides, "but I'll do so, _Mr._ Barnes." Bucky finds himself biting back another smile. "Alright, Mr. Barnes. I recommend that you pick up your tablet and look through the entirety of the information available there in your personal files. If you have questions, let me know and I will help you find the answer. If you get tired of talking to lil' ol' me, there _are_ people on-site whose job it is to set you up with everything here. If you remember your orientation."

Bucky finally lets his smile light his face as he glances at the camera. "I get your point. Thank you."

"Very well. I expect to see you in one of the gyms tomorrow morning."

"Wait a minute," Bucky protests as he sits up, "that's not what I'm agreeing—"

"Excuse me, Mr. Barnes, I hear Boss calling me. Bye!"

Bucky sits in the middle of his room, mouth hanging open as he tries to figure out if an artificial intelligence just pretended to hang up on him.

His life continues to be very strange, he reflects as he gets to his feet. He glances at the tablet with a sigh. Shower first, then time to sit down and investigate what exactly is going on around here. Maybe something will tell him why the hell he seems to have the option of free reign.

~

Bucky ends up promising Friday that he'll go down to the gym once a week if she stops pestering him whenever he starts exercising in his room. She suggests he expand his hobbies. He adds a promise of taking advantage of the Compound's expansive grounds every other day. She adds the requirement of regularly using the tablet provided to him.

Bizarre as it is to negotiate with an incorporeal being, Bucky finds himself quickly warming up to the AI. She keeps her promise not to interrupt his workouts, but he may play up his confusion over things in order to pepper her with questions. By the end of a week, he admits to himself that he thinks of her as a friend.

He ends up outside more often than not, once he gets into the habit. He jogs the outdoor track in the middle of the night, treks into the woods when the sun is bright enough to filter through the leaves, and he wanders the gardens that are apparently a pet project of some of the residents. 

Having other places to go means that he avoids many of Steve's attempts to pull him into social interactions — they're always awkward, and not just for Bucky. There is a lot of wariness towards the new arrivals, and being in the position of interlopers pushes the limits of the returned exiles' patience at times. If Bucky had someone to bet with, he'd start speculating when an outburst occurs.

Bucky isn't wholly alone, although he often goes out of his way to time his appearances when others won't be around. His interactions aren't... bad. It just feels strange to be treated to comfortable greetings, genuine conversation, and never fear. He runs into Pamela in the gardens almost all the time. Supposedly she's one of the public relations wranglers, but given the amount of time she spends in the gardens and how much attention she gives to the plants, Bucky suspects she's teasing him. When he slips down to the gym, it isn't unusual for him to run into Sam or Natasha. On occasion there's someone else on the track late at night. He isn't ready to let go of his reluctance to socialize, but his apprehension is slowly easing.

Time slips by surprisingly quick, something he realizes when Friday reminds him of his first appointment with his therapist coming up. Somehow three weeks have passed by. He knows the psychologist, at least, having met with her twice before leaving Wakanda. It doesn't mean that he feels any less like running.

He decides not to resist the urge and heads out to the track far earlier than he usual. Under the afternoon sun, a handful of people are running or jogging along the course. In the middle, another small group work through hurdles. There are even a few people in the stands.

When he's closer, Bucky sees a familiar young woman turn her head in his direction. She catches sight of him and grins, waving enthusiastically and making her ponytail bounce. It takes a few moments for her name to click — Kitty Pryde, one of the college-age reserve Initiative members. Now that he's been seen, he knows he shouldn't just back off, so Bucky continues forward.

"Look at Mr. Anti-Social making an appearance!" Kitty greets. She props her elbows on her knees and smirks down at him.

"You barely know me," Bucky points out as he hefts himself up the side of the stands to take a seat on the top bench. Kitty turns sideways to keep him in sight.

"Not hard to guess, and I have _sources_."

"I don't know what you're talking about," a boy nearby says, expression wiped clean in what he probably thinks look innocent. Peter Parker, Bucky realizes.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" Bucky finds himself asking.

Peter glances up at him in surprise. "Who, me?" He looks at Kitty, but she just quirks an eyebrow at him. "Uh... no, actually." Peter grins sheepishly. "I have scheduled days to come up here and work on an internship in the labs. I'll be leaving again tomorrow."

Kitty looks down at her watch. "Pretty sure your break's over, by the way. You might want to hustle back before you end up with grunt chores for being late."

"Crap." Peter scrambles to his feet and jumps up onto the side railing in a crouch. He gives Kitty a mocking salute and a polite wave to Bucky. "Hey, nice to see you. You should totally join us for game night and be on my team."

"Oh no way, Spidey," Kitty warns, "no claiming dibs."

"I wasn't!" Peter protests. "Just a suggestion. But you totally should," he directs at Bucky before he jumps down. He hits the grass in a roll and smoothly transitions to his feet and a full-out run back towards the building where the labs and workshops are located.

"His team is losing majorly," Kitty says, smirking when Bucky looks back to her. "So _maybe_ I can let you slip to the Dark Side and see if you end up proving more of a challenge." Her gaze suddenly drops to his empty left sleeve and she grimaces with a look of embarrassment. "Jeez, I'm sorry. Kinda doubt that an Xbox controller's going to be workable one-handed."

Bucky gives her a crooked smile. He glances at the empty space at his left side and shrugs slightly. "It's okay. Not sure I'd be any good at whatever game you're doing anyway. Just because I know what video games are doesn't mean I can play them."

"Well, you'd either be amazing or totally suck."

Bucky asks, "Why's that?"

"Amazing: hand-eye coordination and rapid reflexes. Totally suck: the disconnect of the game world and how you control things is too off-putting," Kitty explains succinctly. "You seem like a quick learner, though, so I'm going to guess you'd end up beating the pants off most people." She sighs and stares off over the track. "You should really go see Tony already and get that arm fitted."

Bucky feels completely wrong-footed. "What?"

"Yeah, we've been surprised you haven't shown up with it yet," Kitty continues, gaze still on the field rather than Bucky, so she doesn't see his expression of complete shock.

Bucky tries to accept what she's saying. "I... don't think Stark would want to do that..." he says carefully.

Kitty whips around and frowns at him. "What are you talking about? The arm's all ready and just waiting there. It's sort of morbid to have a random limb laying around, but the design is phenomenal." Her eyes light with excitement. "The possibilities moving forward with the designs and relays...! If I let myself get started on the tech talk, your eyes will probably glaze over, so I'll spare you. But seriously, you gotta check it out. I want to see it in action. I have no idea how you've avoided Tony hounding you about it so far."

Bucky can only shake his head, numb with surprise. He doesn't understand. 

Kitty's excitement dies down as she tilts her head in consideration. Mercifully, she doesn't press him for information. "Think about coming to join us for game night anyway. You can maybe pick up a feel for things. You've got too cute a face to keep hiding it away anyway."

"I'm... not sure if that's all that encouraging."

"Can't take a compliment, figures. Whatever, Grandpa, you're still welcome. Now I'd better get back to work." She stands up and arches her back in a stretch. "Later!" She wriggles her fingers in a farewell before abruptly dropping _through the benches_.

"The hell?!" Bucky shouts, jumping to his feet.

"Wait, did you not...?" Kitty's voice comes from below him, and Bucky leans over the rail to look down. Kitty steps out through the metal beams along the side and tilts her head back to frown up at him. "You didn't know about my thing."

"Is that 'thing' going through shit like a ghost?" he demands, heartbeat easing to something regular after the adrenaline burst. "What the fuck?"

"Damn, I would have picked a way more dramatic way to reveal myself if I realized you didn't know," Kitty says, looking disappointed. She sighs and waves her hand toward the stands. "So, yeah. That's my thing — intangibility, phase-walking. Come down to the training rooms when we're running simulations, then you'll actually see me in action." A cheery ringtone sounds from her pocket and she makes a face. "Gotta run. Don't be a stranger, Bucky!" she calls over her shoulder as she runs off toward the same building as Peter.

Bucky remains at the railing staring after her, silently processing the past twenty minutes. Somehow Kitty's ability to phase through objects seems more believable than Tony Stark building him a new arm.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be switching to every-other day updates during the week. Updates will also come much later in the day from me due to work.
> 
> Re: Kitty Pryde, I admit that I have limited experience with her through both comics and her movie appearances. Characterization is based loosely on memories of the _A+X_ series and All-New X-Men (the all-female lineup from a few years ago). Given her genius status and interesting abilities, I liked the idea of having her here.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Bucky's lips twitch up in a smile he didn't intend. Stark's gaze drops a little. "You gonna let me look or what?" he asks when Stark keeps standing there._
> 
> _With a sheepish chuckle, Stark spreads his arms and steps aside with a grandiose gesture at the tabletop. "For your consideration, Sergeant."_
> 
> Bucky has some solo encounters with Tony, has a run-in with a robot, and learns more about the arm Tony built him.

Bucky abandons his room and his attempts to sleep at half past one in the morning. The air inside feels stagnant. The walls seem too close. Outside is chilly but it doesn't particularly bother him. The air is crisp and soon enough he'll warm up. He heads for the track at a jog, stretching out his legs in preparation for a long run.

When his feet touch the track, he launches into a full-out run. He lets his awareness of the world around him relax, confident that Friday will watch his back. He's able to focus on his breathing, the pull of his muscles, and how he has to adjust his body to compensate for the lack of weight on his left side. 

He keeps up his pace until his shirt is soaked through with sweat and his lungs start to burn. He slows to a jog but keeps going, stripping off his shirt along the way and dropping it near the stands.

As he turns the bend at the end of his second jogging lap, he sees someone sitting in the stands. The man is in the second row, feet propped up on the bench below. No one should be out here with him at this time of night — too late for the night owls, too early for the pre-dawn risers. His curiosity makes him reluctant to simply ignore the person. As he jogs closer and recognizes Stark, a knot of apprehension settles in his gut.

Stark looks up from his phone as Bucky slows to a walk about fifty feet away. They watch each other silently. Stark's expression is casual, seemingly open in a way Bucky recognizes is meant to put people at ease. 

Bucky is ten feet away by the time Stark finally speaks. "If you're looking for a part-time job, I'm pretty sure there's some art students who'd love to have you model." His steps falter at the odd greeting. Stark's lips curve up in a smile in response to Bucky's confusion. "Too much? I kinda lose my filter when I've been up this long."

With a lack of anything better to say, Bucky asks, "How long's that?"

Stark tilts his head back and frowns in concentration. "This will be day three, maybe?"

Bucky stops in front of the bench, feeling awkward. "That's not healthy, is it?"

The phone resting on Stark's knee lights up, and Friday's voice sounds from the speaker, "No it is not, Mr. Barnes!"

"Shut up, you," Stark scowls down at the phone without heat.

"Don't worry, Boss, he can't judge you," she says. Bucky ends up scowling at the phone too.

"Welcome to Insomniacs-Are-Us, our numbers are many." Their eyes meet for a moment before Stark's gaze slides to the side. His fingers tap against his knee. "Anyway, none of that's why I'm out here."

"You were looking for me," Bucky confirms, unsure how to feel about that.

Stark tilts his hand back and forth. "Eh, kind of. Was also on my way from the workshop to the residences. Friday insisted on fresh air."

Bucky wishes he could cross his arms. Instead he has to let his arm hang by his side or else look like he's hugging himself. His fingers curl into a loose fist as he shifts his weight back. "What do you want?" he asks, grimacing a little when it comes out accusatory.

Stark eyes him silently, gaze a little wary. After a few moments, he says, "I heard Kitty dropped the news that I have something for you. I figured it was past time to bring it up."

The mention of the arm makes Bucky tense. He's suddenly hyperaware of the sweat drying on his skin and how his hair sticks to his neck. Even two days into no sleep, Stark looks put-together. Bucky knows he looks a mess stripped down to the first pair of pants he grabbed, sweat-covered from running, and his hair more of a tangled mess than usual. He's down one arm and his torso is littered with scars, not only contained to his left side. Belatedly he wonders why the hell Stark mentioned art modeling.

"You... don't like the idea," Stark guesses quietly. He's frowning down at his feet when Bucky looks up sharply. "Huh. Didn't really expect that. I thought... Well, let's be honest, it's the least I'd owe you."

Bucky stares at the other man, mind blanking for a second as he tries to process that. "You don't _owe_ me _anything_ ," he breathes out in a rush when his brain restarts. He knows his eyes are wide when Stark looks up at him with a small frown. Bucky shakes his head, eyes closing against the stare that should be accusing. _"You killed my mom!"_

Stark clears his throat awkwardly. "Uh, so... maybe we'll agree to disagree. I blasted your arm off." Bucky opens his eyes to find Stark staring off to the side, hand rubbing over his mouth in a nervous gesture. "Jesus, can't imagine what that felt life." He grimaces and shakes his head. "I... I needed to do this. So, there's a new arm for you. Tweaks needed, probably. Did everything I could with simulations and when it comes to the connections there's probably more work to be done given your..." He trails off as he gestures towards Bucky's left shoulder, his gaze finally drifting back.

Bucky doesn't have a response. He feels strangely numb as he stands here, staring blindly at Stark's hands and imagining the man crafting a mechanical arm.

"It's lighter," Stark continues when the silence drags. "Should have more sensation, if that's what you want. Everything's new, best materials. I've talked to a friend of mine and she agreed that we can cover it all with synthetic skin if you want. Maybe you want to keep the silver, or you could dress it up? Hey, Buckaroo, gimme a sign here. The thousand-yard stare's getting to be a little much."

Bucky focuses on Stark, who looks slightly concerned.

"I... don't understand," Bucky admits in a murmur.

Stark searches Bucky's face with a frown, though Bucky doesn't know what he's looking for. Eventually Stark's gaze drops to the silver-plated shoulder. "I fix things," Stark says. His fingers drum restlessly against his chest. "And this is something I broke. You shouldn't have to just live with the consequences when something can be done about it."

"You didn't—"

Stark holds up a hand and quickly interrupts, "I'd rather not talk about Siberia. It was a clusterfuck." 

Which... fair enough. Bucky needs to at least apologize, though, so he tries to speak again.

Stark stands up abruptly and glances down at his phone as he says, "Friday, send our sweaty friend here some drool-worthy images of the arm."

"Right on it, Boss!" Friday chirps. "Should I summarize the details and send that, too?"

"Perfect." Stark's smile is a little tight when he looks at Bucky again. "At least take a look at things. You should come down and see it in person. Besides, you're missing out on the coolest area onsite. _My_ workshop's the best, but the kids get up to some nifty things and there's plenty of innovative folks around here. Wander down sometime." He pauses, watching Bucky as he waits for a response. 

The apology sticks in Bucky's throat. He's caught feeling unbalanced, half his mind preoccupied with the, as Stark termed it, "clusterfuck" and the other half trying to wrap around the earnest invitation that Stark's offering.

"Anyway..." Stark eventually says, stepping down from the bench; "It's probably time for me to get out of your hair and go crash for a few hours. You, uh, have a good rest of your night-morning. And think about the arm, okay?"

Bucky nods shortly. He manages a quiet, "Yeah, I will." Apparently it's enough to bring a smile to Stark's face.

"Great! See you around, Buckaroo," Stark says with a wave as he heads in the direction of the residence.

Bucky turns to stare after him.

Stark really has a new arm for him — designed it, took care to improve it, has options for further customizations. He doesn't seem uncomfortable around Bucky. He never once looked at Bucky with hate or fear. Stark feels _guilty_ for destroying Bucky's arm.

Overwhelmed and confused, Bucky drops down onto the bottom bench of the stands and tries to decide where to go from here.

~

Bucky gives into his curiosity within forty-eight hours. As he heads out his door, Friday smugly tells him that he'll find Tony in his workshop. Bucky shots a brief glare at her camera before stepping into the hall.

Before he knows it, Bucky finds himself standing in front of a clear-paneled door looking in on a brightly lit workshop that takes up half the floor it's on. He can't see Stark from where he's at, and only now does he wonder how he's getting in. He glances down at his key-card that got him this far, then at the control pad beside the door.

"Want me to let Boss know you're here?" Friday asks.

Bucky scrubs a hand down his face. "Yeah, might as well." He runs his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back as he waits. He's more presentable today, not the sweaty mess Stark saw the other night.

"Go right in," Friday invites as a green light blinks above the panel and the lock clicks open.

With a fortifying breath, Bucky pushes through and makes it a few feet in before he stops to look around. There's almost too much to take in: worktables covered with mechanical components and circuit boards, tool boxes filled to the brim, machines Bucky can't hope to name, half-assembled Iron Man suits, monitors showing streams of fast-moving code—

_Whoop-beep!_

Bucky startles at the noise as an object swoops in from the side and blocks his view. The floating machine is a little larger than his head and looks vaguely like a flowerpot, complete with something like leaves sticking out of the top. Bucky backs up a step as the thing sways forward, its pointy top coming dangerously close to his nose.

_Beep whir whir whoop!_

"Boo, mind your manners," Friday chastises.

The machine, Boo, float-hops a foot back, which allows Bucky to straighten up without chancing bumping into it. Boo lets out another string of beeps and whirs as the "leaves" emerge from its top, revealing themselves to be sections of a claw. The pot part cracks open a little, exposing panels.

"Where were you hiding?" Stark's voice comes from off to the right. "I _knew_ Peter left you in here."

_Whistle whir whir whoop-beep!_

"She's disappointed you didn't play the game, Boss," Friday explains.

Stark comes into view from around one of the large machines with a screwdriver in his hand. His gaze locks on Boo immediately. He frowns at the robot and waves the screwdriver in a scolding manner. "You, Missy, are a troublemaker. You're not supposed to be in here." Boo's claw lowers, and it drops a little. "Go bug Rhodey, or do something nice and bring him a coffee."

"The Colonel is off-site for the day, Boss."

Stark frowns and eyes Boo skeptically. "Maybe, if you keep away from the tables, you can stay," he says warily. The robot's claw perks up, and its base flaps out as it lets out a victorious whoop. Stark's eye-roll doesn't mask the little smile that crosses his lips. "Shoo, and no more dive-bombing people who're likely to punch you out of the air on reflex." Stark turns his gaze to Bucky with a raised eyebrow. "Kind of surprised you didn't."

Bucky shrugs. "I was a little distracted," he admits.

"Well I appreciate it. Peter's usually the one to work on her, and he's not back for another week. She's a noisy sulker if something's wrong." The next _beep-whir_ that Boo emits seems almost offended. Stark points the screwdriver at her. "It's not a lie. Now shoo. Preoccupy Dummy so he doesn't ambush our guest, too."

Boo whoops and twirls, panels fanning out and back in. She dips in towards Bucky briefly before flying away, darting dangerously close to a monitor as she goes.

"Friday, keep an eye on them," Stark directs with a sigh. He finally gives Bucky his full attention, a slightly stilted smile on his face. "So you made it down here. Exploring or just here for the goods?" He twirls the screwdriver in his hands, a nervous gesture that gives Bucky an excuse not to meet the other man's eyes.

As curious as Bucky is about the numerous projects spread out around them, he decides it's best to keep things focused so that he doesn't outstay his welcome. He scratches absently at his neck as he clears his throat. "I thought I'd see the, um, arm in-person."

Stark's smile broadens, the corners of his eyes crinkling as the expression lights his whole face. " _Excellent_ choice. Right this way, Frostbite." He turns, sticking the screwdriver in the back pocket of his — _okay, wow, wrong time to notice_ — tight jeans. Bucky quickly raises his gaze to lock on Stark's shoulder before he's caught staring at the man's ass. _Really inappropriate._

"So did you look over what Fri sent you? We figured the technical details would be a little much, so she cut down to the highlights. The mock-ups and photos she sent should've given you a decent impression, but there's nothing better than seeing the real thing — laying a hand on it, y'know? Even the prototypes didn't feel quite right. Laid out the final pieces, smoothed out the exterior plating, and just _touching_ it made it obvious that this was _it_!" Tony speaks quickly, though not so fast that his words get lost. Bucky watches his hands dance in the air, and the emotion in his voice provides a mental image of the expression of excitement on his face.

Stark stops in front of a workbench that looks surprisingly clear of clutter. His body blocks most of the view, and he turns in such a way that he keeps its contents from sight. His grin matches the light in his eyes as he looks at Bucky. "I swear you'll love it. Or maybe there's some finishing touches you want. Whatever, I'll make _sure_ you love it."

Bucky's lips twitch up in a smile he didn't intend. Stark's gaze drops a little. "You gonna let me look or what?" he asks when Stark keeps standing there.

With a sheepish chuckle, Stark spreads his arms and steps aside with a grandiose gesture at the tabletop. "For your consideration, Sergeant."

His amusement at the dramatic lead-in fades as Bucky steps towards the metal arm laying on a folded cloth on top of the table. Its plates shine under the bright lights. As he hesitantly touches the cool metal and runs his fingers down the bicep, he finds that Stark has somehow made the panels' seams smoother than the old arm. Pressing his palm against the plates and running it down the length of the arm reveals the more natural proportions of its structure. "Lighter," Stark had said, and Bucky believes him even without lifting it. 

At the hand, Bucky cautiously tilts the arm to the side so he can get a better look at the details. Visually he can already see additional articulation that will better mimic the flexibility of a human hand. A careful touch along the fingers reveals a change of texture; the tips aren't fully metal or smooth. It almost feels rubbery.

Stark clears his throat before speaking. "So, uh, like I said, it's lighter — better materials, less clunky internal workings, and better proportioned based on your organic arm. Tried to minimize the likelihood of grit and stuff getting under the seams; there's a second layer to help that out, make cleaning easier if it's needed. Not much is gonna damage the exterior short of a close-range missile. The hand on the old one was pretty basic, I think they were just looking for what you needed for punching shit or holding a gun. This should give a more natural feel, allow you to grip things more carefully. Oh! The fingertips, right. So it was bugging me how smooth things were turning out, and then I also realized that even with two hands you'd have to stick to using touch-screens one-handed; so I went ahead and consulted with Helen — Helen Cho, she's the doctor who can help with the synthetic skin — to figure out something that would solve that issue. I'm pretty sure I got the code worked out to carry appropriate pressure and temperature measures through the tips, and to a lesser extent with the rest of the arm. Sensors get a little tricky when I wanted the best protection for the exterior. I couldn't really test things without it connected to living organic tissue and nerves. Speaking of which, this isn't—"

"Why?" Bucky whispers the question, but it's enough to cut Stark off.

Bucky stares at his hand resting against the upturned wrist of the metal arm. How many hours, no, _months_ , had this taken? What he read in Friday's briefing and what Stark's telling him makes him certain this should have taken years. What had Stark pushed aside to work on this? _Why_ had he dedicated so much time to producing something for the man who— Bucky closes his eyes and inhales shakily.

"I..." Stark takes a minute of some false starts before he's able to continue. "I kinda wanted to? I mean, I felt... well, let's say 'not good' about what I did. It didn't have to turn out that way." Bucky's hand spasms around the wrist as the phantom sensation of digging metal fingers into the Iron Man chest-plate shoots through his left shoulder. "With this and with Rhodey's—" Stark breaks off with an audible swallow. "There's a medical SI sub-company we're establishing — Resilient. The work I've been doing with this broke open advancements with prosthetics and movement aides. So I'm hoping it'll help you, but it's gonna help a lot of other people, too."

Bucky opens his eyes as he withdraws his hand and digs his fingers against his thigh. "That's... great," he says haltingly. "But... I don't deserve this. Not after—"

"All you've done?" Stark finishes. Bucky looks up, but instead of accusation he finds determination hardening Stark's features. The other man crosses his arms and leans back against the table. "I'll tell you something I learned, Freezer Burn. We don't often get what we deserve. Maybe we're thinking about it wrong, maybe we're right — I dunno. But half the time there's no one to argue against, and the other half, it's damn hard to convince people otherwise. And me? I'm a stubborn bastard. So _this_ —" he nods down at the arm "—is on offer, and I want you to seriously consider it. Is it something you _want_? Don't make this about what you think you deserve." 

Stark meets Bucky's conflicted stare unflinchingly. There's nothing to suggest he believes anything less than what he's saying. It's too much. Bucky looks away and steps back.

"Look, I..." Bucky trails off, shaking his head. 

"Hey," Stark's voice gentles, "it's only been a couple days. Think about it, ask Friday questions, come back down here, prod at it... I don't know, whatever you need to do."

Bucky manages to nod but the tightness of his throat keeps him from speaking. He makes his escape then, barely managing to keep from running out the door.

~ 

Bucky ventures out from his room that evening when Friday starts pestering him about skipping meals. She promises pizza — a tried and true favorite for group gatherings — on the communal sixth floor. 

The aroma of pizza as soon as he opens the stairwell door causes his stomach to grumble. He hopes Friday doesn't hear it because at this point he _knows_ she'll tease him about it. He can hear the TV in the lounge, the fake gunshots and explosions a backdrop for Sam's cursing, Kitty's yelp of surprise, and Natasha's dry commentary. 

Bucky goes to the kitchen first, loading a plate with pizza slices from a variety of boxes. With a pepperoni slice in biting distance, he walks to the archway leading into the lounge and looks over the area. Sam and Kitty sit on opposite ends of a couch, leaning intently towards the television. Vision sits in the middle, a look of intent concentration on his face. Barton perches behind them on the back of the couch.

"Boomer! Outta the way, move!" Kitty shouts.

"If you'd remember to crouch, I'd have gotten him by now," Barton retorts.

Bucky studies the screen to try and figure out what they're playing. It's split-screen, each quadrant showing a different point of view as the players shoot at what are possibly zombies. Someone's screen is obscured by blurry green; given Kitty's sound of disgust, it's probably her. 

Natasha sits sideways in an armchair, her legs draped over the side. She acknowledges Bucky with a small nod before criticizing Barton's strategy. Steve's sitting on a second couch with his back to Bucky; at Natasha's nod, he turns his head.

"Buck!" Steve smiles in greeting and gestures him closer.

Kitty glances away from the screen a moment. "Look at that, it's Mr. Anti-Social! Twice in a week, I am so impressed."

"I hear a Smoker," Sam announces nonsensically, attracting Kitty's attention back to the screen.

"Got him!"

"Hey, man," Sam greets without looking away from the TV. "Good to see you."

Natasha notes with amusement, "You haven't even looked at him."

"Thought that counts. We're outta med packs, can't get distracted."

Vision's expression smooths as he turns to Bucky. "Good evening, Mr. Barnes, it is good to have you join us."

"Viz," Kitty complains, knocking her elbow against him, "don't you mess us up."

With the players' attention refocused, Bucky makes his way into the room and hesitates next to Steve, debating if he really wants to commit to sticking around. His friend looks up at him with a hopeful expression. Hiding a sigh, Bucky drops down on the opposite end of the couch and slouches against the back. He picks up the pepperoni to finish the slice as he watches the action unfold on the TV.

"It's called Left for Dead," Steve explains.

"Two!" Kitty adds. "Although this is an original mission."

"Ready up, I'm calling the 'chopper," Sam warns.

"I've got left of the building covered, Vision take right," Barton directs.

Bucky finishes chewing and asks, "Zombies?"

"Zombies," Steve confirms with a wry smile. "Apparently a popular theme."

"Steve's not a fan," Natasha says. She looks away from the screen to focus her attention on the super soldiers. "Haven't seen you in the gym for a few days."

Bucky shrugs. "Just prefer the outdoors recently."

"You could join me for my morning run," Steve suggests, not for the first time. Bucky shrugs again, his usual noncommittal response to the invitation. His friend sighs quietly.

"Get back here and pick me up, you bastards!" Kitty shouts. "Oh my god, you are not leaving me here!"

"Too slow," Sam notes with a laugh.

"Bye-bye. So sorry, Bill," Barton says as he sets his controller aside.

Vision looks over at Kitty. "I apologize. We were already on the helicopter."

Kitty rolls her eyes and drops her controller on the cushion next to her. "Right. I am so not teaming up with you if there's a zombie apocalypse." She points at Bucky. "I need to find out if you're team material. Did you see Tony yet?"

Bucky can feel Steve's frown focused on him without turning to look. Sam glances at them curiously. "What about?" Steve asks when Bucky doesn't respond right away.

Gaze dropping to his plate, Bucky prods at a large piece of pineapple stuck atop the next slice of pizza. He isn't sure why he's quite so reluctant to admit the reason. After a deep breath, he admits, "Stark built me an arm."

The silence from the recently returned Avengers is obvious in comparison to Visions soft "Ah" of understanding and Natasha's small nod. Kitty enthuses, "It's _awesome_. His work on it and Rhodey's braces jump-started a new medical division of Stark Industries."

"It officially opens at the end of the year," Natasha adds. She catches Bucky's eye when he looks up. "It's groundbreaking work."

"Wow. That sounds... pretty amazing," Sam remarks, expression still revealing his surprise. "I mean, I knew about Rhodey's... So Stark built you an arm?"

"That's... really generous." Steve sounds a little off, distracted almost. Steve is frowning faintly at the TV.

Natasha watches the blond intently as she inquires mildly, "Is it so surprising? He builds to fix things."

Barton frowns. "Bucky isn't a thing, 'Tasha."

Vision intervenes before she can answer. "I believe Tony also fixes people." Kitty nods in agreement; after a moment, Sam does, too.

"You gotta check it out."

"I did," Bucky replies, "earlier today."

"It's rather beautiful, isn't it?" Natasha says, her intent gaze shifting to Bucky.

"Yes..."

Kitty leans forward, elbows on her knees. "Why do I sense a 'but' there?"

"Was something wrong?" Steve asks, leaning closer with a concerned expression. Bucky waves him off. 

"No, it was fine." He pauses, momentarily lost in the memory of examining the cybernetic tech customized for _him_. "Perfect," he admits quietly. "But it's too much."

"Buck," Steve says quietly, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. "You deserve to have your arm back."

Bucky shrugs off Steve's hand and stares at his friend incredulously. "It was a weapon! I killed with it. And I—" He closes his eyes and breathes in sharply. Exhaling shakily, he finishes, "I don't even know how many."

Tone gentle, Steve repeats his belief that, "It was _Hydra_ , Bucky. And now they can't control you. _Never_ again, I promise you."

There are no guarantees, he knows, but that his mind's freedom is possible is also, in part, thanks to Stark.

"If I may," Vision says before Bucky can bring up his observation, "there is something I wish to point out." The android patiently waits for Bucky to look his way before continuing. "While battle capable, the cybernetic prosthesis was designed with the intention of being as natural of a replacement limb as possible. If you have seen it, then you must have noticed the significantly decreased bulk; that is merely one example."

Sam watches Bucky expectantly as he asks, "Did he ask for anything in return?"

"No," he answers sharply. _But he should. What reason does he have to help me?_

"Not trying to imply anything," Sam assures, "just want you to consider that."

Kitty makes a noise of agreement. "The arm's already yours. Pretty sure whatever happens to it is up to you."

Natasha chimes in again, "Tony's been waiting to show you. He almost brought it up the first day." The steady gaze she settles on him gives further weight to her meaning, _"He wants you to have this."_

"Please do consider accepting the gift," Vision says before standing. "It is time for my evening walk, so I wish you all a good night."

"G'night, Viz." The others echo similar farewells while Kitty adds, "And thanks for trying to keep the zombies from eating me."

The android pauses at the side of the couch to direct a small smirk at her. "In the future, endeavor to keep from running ahead and remember melee attacks." He leaves while Kitty is glaring daggers at Barton, who starts chuckling.

With the distraction and lightened mood, Bucky is able to return to his pizza.

"You know what? Screw you," Kitty huffs. She picks up Vision's abandoned controller and tosses it to Natasha. "Want to kick these guys' asses?"

"It's a four-player team," Sam points out.

"Not if we switch to Halo," Kitty announces smugly as the TV screen switches over to what looks like a home screen. "Two-v-two. Besides, I need Bucky to see what he'll be playing the first game night he can use a controller."

Steve leans over to speak to Bucky while the others continue to talk. "You _do_ deserve it, Bucky. Please don't punish yourself like this."

"I don't want to talk about it," he says with a glare. "It's my choice, ain't it? Then let me decide." He turns his attention pointedly to the television where a new game menu is up. "Now let me watch the damn game Ghost Girl wants me to study." 

Thankfully, Steve does back off and Bucky can lose himself in the brightly-colored game graphics and the banter between the players.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced video games: 
> 
> _Left 4 Dead 2_ and the original mission... Mercy? Wow it's been a while since I played. (Author's obsessive detail note: Tech geniuses mean that the multiplayer can be played on one screen.)
> 
>  _Halo_ , which I've only played the storyline gameplay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Bucky discuss names. And there are Barton Family Feels.
> 
> _"Who're you?" the boy demands eventually._
> 
> _"Uh... Bucky..." he manages haltingly. For a tiny person, Nate has an intimidating stare. Bucky reaches back without looking to recall the elevator. He is **not** fleeing._

Bucky's dressed for hitting the gym when he next ends up outside Stark's workshop doors. Having come this far (quite the detour given that it's not in the same building as the gym), Bucky asks, "Fri? Can you find out if it's okay to stop in?"

"Boss says to come on in," Friday replies immediately. 

Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh. "You already told him I was here."

"I _am_ in charge of Boss' security," she points out.

Bucky steps into the workshop before stopping and taking a quick look around for Boo. He doesn't need to embarrass himself by getting startled by a small robot again.

"You waiting for a more direct invite?" Stark asks as he walks into view. He takes in Bucky's posture and grins. "Stand down, there's no one to swoop down on you today. Boo's back to trailing Rhodey.

"Oh." Bucky doesn't have a follow-up to that even though Stark stares at him expectantly.

The silence drags on awkwardly. 

Stark glances aside. "Did you have some questions? Wanted another look at the arm? Want the nickel tour?"

Since he hadn't planned on coming down here, Bucky doesn't have a ready answer. He looks around as he considers his reply. Eventually he says, "I want to understand." There's multiple meanings to that, but he decides to focus on the one that will be most likely to give him a satisfactory answer. He looks back at Stark, who's watching him. "I need more information about the arm before I go making any decisions."

Stark's smile starts off small, then broadens as he realizes Bucky's genuinely interested. "Well then, step right up. Anything in particular or are we going over the whole shebang?"

"Uh… maybe start with the upgrades you talked about?" Bucky says, finally realizing how much information he's likely to receive, considering the complexity of the project.

"C'mon over, Frostbite, let's get started."

Stark leads the way again, and just like during the prior visit, Bucky finds his gaze drifting down. He can't help but notice how well the man's tight jeans fit to his ass and legs — both of which are stunningly well-defined. Bucky may not have seen Stark in the gym, but there's no doubt that he keeps in shape.

 _Still not appropriate,_ he scolds himself and jerks his gaze up. It would be just his luck to be caught staring. While he's sure that Stark's had his share of admirers, Bucky's attention is less likely to be welcomed.

This time when they reach the worktable with the arm, Stark hooks his foot around a stool and propels it in the direction of the table. He waves Bucky on while he pulls up another seat for himself. Once he sits down, Stark claps his hands together and calls, "Friday, let's rock his world." Holograms burst to life around them, the blue glow reflecting off Stark's excited eyes.

While Stark launches into an explanation of the rundown of simulations he'd run, Bucky has a vaguely sinking feeling as he realizes how long it takes him to look to the holograms rather than Stark's face. _Don't even think about it, buddy. Only gonna lead to disaster._ With a renewed sense of determination, Bucky focuses on Stark's words and the images floating around him; it doesn't end up being difficult to do.

 

Bucky isn't entirely sure how much time has passed when Friday speaks up. "Sorry to interrupt, Boss, but you wanted to know when the 'mini agents' arrived."

Tony's sentence trails off, and his expression loses some of its energy. "Uh, does Barton know he's clear to use whatever space they need?"

"Ms. Laura has made arrangements. The kids are asking if you'll drop by."

Bucky can't pretend disinterest in the conversation; he looks over in surprise upon realizing that Friday's talking about Barton's family.

Stark rubs his hands against his thighs, staring down with a frown. He doesn't look comfortable.

"I... need to clean up first. I'll try stopping by. For a bit," Stark finally says haltingly. He glances over at Bucky with a wry smile. "Guess that's all for now. Feel free to drop by whenever. I'm not always here, but Fri's more than capable of going over things with you. I'll make sure your card will get you in."

Bucky stares blankly at Stark for a long moment. "Let me in?" he repeats dumbly.

Stark's expression softens. "Proprietary stuff gets locked away, Fri's on security, the arm's yours... In case you haven't noticed, I love to show off. Friday will let you know if you're about to poke at something dangerous; otherwise I'll hope you find something that catches your eye and I can talk your ear off next time."

"I really don't get you," Bucky mutters with a shake of his head.

"No one really does," Stark says with a laugh. When he catches Bucky's gaze, he winks. "Man of mystery, I've gotta have my secrets."

Bucky's lips part, an argument against the invitation on his lips. However, Stark's expression is open, and there's a spark of hope in his eyes. Instead Bucky says, "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

Stark's nose wrinkles and he leans back. "That's not gonna cut it. Tony, if you please. Gorgeous, Sexy, or Iron Man would also suffice."

"I'll stick with Tony," Bucky says dryly.

"Have it your way, Freezer Burn. Oh, right. You probably got that nicknames are a thing. I know names, most of the time, but where's the fun in that?" Tony eyes Bucky, waiting for permission one way or another.

Bucky has to look away as he says, "I don't mind." He doesn't want to admit that the nicknames are easier to handle than struggling with his given names. It occurs to him that he relaxes a little every time Tony tosses out an odd name.

"And the, er, ice jokes don't bother you?"

"No? I mean, they fit, don't they?" Bucky asks, cocking his head to the side as he tallies the number of ice or winter related puns used since meeting up with Tony.

Tony gives him a delighted little grin as he stands up. "That they do, Snowflake. Okay, I better go look presentable." He runs a hand back through his hair and inhales deeply. His grin fades, leaving him looking nervous.

"I should go anyway." Bucky stands and takes a step away. Before he leaves, he turns back and says sincerely, "Thank you. Tony."

For a moment it looks like Tony will make another joke to dodge the gratitude. He ends up looking away and scratching at his goatee as he replies, "You're welcome."

With nothing else to say, Bucky makes his way out of the workshop. His mind lingers on the image of Tony sitting within the glow of projected schematics as he talks passionately. It's an attractive image.

 _Disaster,_ a voice in the back of his mind mutters. He decides it's a good day to take a jog through the woods.

~

Bucky turns back to the residences when he realizes it's nearing dinnertime; he might as well head off Friday's reminder that he missed lunch. He gets into the elevator for the sixth floor since its kitchen is the most likely to have meal options at the ready. 

As the doors are parting with the lift's telltale ping, Bucky hears a high-pitched squeal of excitement and running feet. He freezes in place a step outside the doors, remembering belatedly that the sixth floor is the most popular area for people to gather. Before he can truly consider turning around, a young girl with dark blonde braids careens around the archway to the lounge. Her excited expression turns into one of surprise as she trips to a stop. She stares at Bucky with wide eyes for a moment, then leans to the side to look around him.

"Aww, man," she mutters, pouting down at the floor.

A younger child hurries into the hall with a handful of crayons and hopeful eyes. The girl turns around and walks over to the toddler, tousling his messy hair with one hand. "C'mon Nate, he's not here."

The little boy looks up with a growing pout. "Why?"

With a dramatic eye-roll, the girl shouts, "Auntie Nat, he's asking why again!" She passes through the archway and out of view.

Bucky is left staring at Nate. Nate stares back.

"Who're you?" the boy demands eventually.

"Uh... Bucky..." he manages haltingly. For a tiny person, Nate has an intimidating stare. Bucky reaches back without looking to recall the elevator. He is _not_ fleeing.

From inside the lounge Natasha calls, "Nathaniel, zaychik, who're you talking to?"

Bucky hears the elevator settling into place behind him so he flashes a plastic smile at the kid. "Bye. Have fun."

The doors are just opening as Bucky whirls around and walks forward with one thought in mind: Retreat. Unfortunately, that means he gives no consideration that the elevator might be occupied, which results in him smacking full-body into said occupant. 

"Whoa, jeez!" Tony bounces back far enough that he has to reach out and brace himself against the back wall. Bucky stands awkwardly between the doors, his own hand out to catch the edge when he'd startled back. They blink at each other for a long, drawn-out moment — Tony looking baffled and Bucky fighting back mortification. Eventually Tony's eyebrows arch high and he asks, "Where's the fire?"

Bucky grimaces. "I'm sorry. Just..." His mouth snaps shut. No way is he admitting why he was in such a hurry.

His reasoning makes himself known, anyway. "Tony!" Nate squees, little feet making an amazing amount of noise as he stomp-runs down the hall. Bucky quickly moves out of the way. He doesn't miss the way Tony bites his lip, laughter dancing in his eyes.

"Hey, kiddo!" Tony bends down to scoop Nate up as he steps out of the elevator. "Are you terrorizing big, bad, hunky assassins?" His gaze cuts to the side to grin at Bucky before refocusing on the kid. "You waiting for me?"

Nate leans back in Tony's arms and shoves his fistful of crayons at the man's face. "Me 'n Auntie drawing you," he announces with a proud look.

"Did you get my handsome side?" Tony asks, mock-serious, as he steps forward. Before Bucky can slip by — and hell, he'll just take the stairs this time — Tony darts out a hand to smack his chest. "Oh no, don't go anti-social now. You gotta eat sometime, and the kiddos always manage to coax out the cooks."

Bucky finds himself reluctantly following alongside Tony, his arm held captive when Tony changes his grip. "I don't think I should—"

"Nonsense, Frosty. If Natasha can handle it, so can you."

The little girl is waiting just inside the doorway, beaming excitedly as she bounces on her toes.

Tony puts Nate down and eyes the girl with an indulgent smile. "I don't think I should trust that look. What did you do?"

"Nothing!" she protests. She throws herself forward and wraps her arms around his waist. Judging by his exhaled _oomph_ , her grip's pretty tight. "I'm just excited you showed up!"

Natasha stands with her arms crossed and a smirk on her lips. "Yes, he did. No meetings to distract him today."

"You wound me," Tony retorts. "Okay, cupcake, let me breathe." When the girl steps back, he grins down at her and tugs gently on one of her braids.

"Hey Bucky, Tony," Sam greets from his seat on one of the couches. There's a flash of hesitance that crosses Tony's face when he looks up, but it's gone quickly as he nods a greeting.

Bucky eyes the doorway thoughtfully. This time it's Natasha who steers him further into the room. "Don't wander off and miss dinner, Barnes." She directs towards Tony, "Cooper's supervising Vision's flavoring decisions. Rhodey's in there, too."

"Perfect! You definitely have to stick around, Snowflake." Tony lets the girl tug him further into the room. Nate wanders after them, oblivious to the fact that he loses a red and orange crayon along the way.

Natasha watches them with an indulgent smile. Quietly she explains to Bucky, "They're Clint's kids. Youngest is Nathaniel, and that's Lila."

Bucky can't help but ask, "So where's Barton?"

Her mouth settles in a grim line. "Attempting to hash out some things with his estranged wife before there's an attempt at a reunion." Bucky feels a pang of sympathy for the man. Natasha sighs quietly, eyes closing briefly. "But... he decided to come out of retirement."

Bucky doesn't have anything to say to that, though he feels a sick twist in his chest. _Why'd you call him, Stevie?_ he wonders.

Lila and Nate convince Tony to sit on the floor next to the coffee table where papers, crayons, and markers are spread out. Nate crawls on top in attempt to grab one of the colorful drawings. Sam watches it all with amusement.

"Good news," Lang announces as he walks in from the kitchen, "I totally convinced them that popcorn's an acceptable pre-dinner snack!" He has a stack of small bowls in one hand and cradles a large bowl of popcorn with the opposite arm. He looks surprised when he sees Tony on the floor. "Oh, h-hey Mr. Stark."

Tony casts the other man an exasperated stare. "It's Tony, Mr. Lang."

Lang makes a face at that as the kids jump up and crowd around him. "Okay, okay — wait a second! And if I have to call you Tony, stick to Scott."

"Whatever, Mr. Ants-in-the-pants. Better feed the little beasts before they gnaw on you."

The next hour proceeds in a similar vein, although Bucky is able to slip off to a corner of the room where there are a couple of reading chairs angled next to a bookcase. It's quieter and allows him to observe without getting dragged into the high energetics of the kids. 

He can't remember the last time he was around children. Another lifetime, probably. As he watches Lang re-braiding Lila's hair after it's gotten loose, he has a vague memory of a little round-faced girl shaking her head at him, braids swinging wildly as he laughed. Bucky swallows against the lump in his throat. He can remember his sister, how she looked when she was a child. He can't recall her name or what she looked like when they grew up.

 _"It is possible that some memories may be gone forever,"_ Dr. Khunjulwa had explained bluntly. _"But we don't know that for sure. The human brain is mysterious and works in ways we can't always anticipate. Your enhanced physiology adds an additional complexity that we cannot predict."_

A burst of giggles drags Bucky away from his darkening thoughts. Nate rolls on the floor, squealing with laughter as Natasha tickles his sides and legs with a grin. She's open around the kids, smiles more and relaxes. It's within her capabilities to fake such things, but the genuine delight in her eyes gives her away. Sam's watching her, obvious affection written across his face. Tony sits back on the couch and watches with a smile. Lang ties the end of Lila's braid and pats her on the head.

Bucky's so wrapped up in observing the scene that he misses the new arrival at first. Movement at the corner of his vision catches his eye, and he glances over to find Steve stopped a few feet into the room. The blond looks hesitant as his gaze flicks around the people gathered together. After a few moments, he catches sight of Bucky and seems to relax a little. 

"Hey, good to see you out and about," Steve says as he takes a seat in the chair opposite Bucky.

Across the room, Tony's gaze drifts their way, expression unreadable.

"I'm not that bad," Bucky replies, frowning slightly. He ventures out of his room daily, Friday doesn't even need to bug him about it anymore. He doesn't generally care to interact with groups of people, though, so it's more likely that's what Steve is commenting on. Twice in as many days — possibly a record for him.

"I know it's... hard to deal with people, that's all," Steve explains, voice gentling. "You kind of look like you wanna get out of here."

The implied question prompts Bucky to glance over at Natasha, now letting Nate sit in her lap as they look down at a tablet. His gaze drifts to Tony, who glances up in time for their eyes to meet. Bucky quickly refocuses on Steve. "I was invited to dinner," he says. Steve frowns slightly, clearly suspecting there's more of an explanation.

Bucky is spared having to possibly explain himself when Lila gasps loudly. He whips his head in her direction, unable to read her tone. The girl is on her feet, hands pressed over her mouth as she stares at the doorway with huge eyes that shine with unshed tears. Following the direction of her gaze, Bucky sees Barton standing in the doorway, body tense with his expression contorted in a mix of joy and pain. A dark-haired woman stands further back, stress obvious around her eyes as she watches.

Lila's voice comes out as a breathy almost-sob. "Daddy?"

Nate leans back against Natasha, craning his neck to try and get a good look at who his sister is talking to.

The tableau breaks when Lila sprints across the room. She trips, but Barton takes two steps forward and catches her. He kneels down as they cling to each other. Lila's voice is muffled against his shirt. He murmurs to her, closing his eyes and pressing his face against her hair. Everyone tries to pretend they aren't sneaking glances at the reunion.

Nate turns around in Natasha's lap and whispers something against her ear. The redhead smiles sadly and smooths back his hair. "It's alright, zaychik." Tony watches them with a pinched look. Even from where he's sitting, Bucky can see the man digging his fingers into the arm of the couch.

Barton's wife walks around her husband and child toward Natasha. Nate eagerly abandons his aunt for his mother, holding his arms up in the universal sign of "pick me up." She smiles at him though her eyes are still tight with tension. "Hey sweetie, what did you do with Auntie Nat?"

Nate's arms wrap around Laura's neck, and he pulls himself up to look over her shoulder at his sister. He doesn't seem to be paying attention to his mother.

Tony abruptly stands and says, "I'll see if Cooper's able to take a break from the kitchen." He hurries out of the room.

Laura gives a polite smile to Sam and Lang. "Hello. I hope Natasha managed to keep my little hellions in line."

Lang jumps to his feet, hand out as he smiles at her. "They're wonderful. I have a daughter of my own, Cassie. She's a little younger than Lila." He looks over at the girl, and his smile dims with regret.

"What is it," Laura starts quietly, gaze piercing, "that possessed you to leave behind your family?"

Lang freezes, and Sam sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth. Steve flinches and looks away, Bucky notices. Barton opens his eyes and lifts his head a little.

Laura inhales shakily and closes her eyes on the exhale. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lang." She visibly collects herself. "I don't have any business prying."

"It's, uh... well, you've got a point," Lang admits quietly, dragging a hand over his face. He meets Laura's gaze with a pained expression. "D'you think she'll let me see Cassie again?"

Laura doesn't answer for a long while, and Bucky notices that Barton hugs his daughter closer.

"I think that if your daughter wishes to see you, her mother will take her wishes into consideration. And," she continues after a brief pause, "I believe you will be begging forgiveness for a long time."

Lang blinks quickly, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "Yeah," he breathes. "Worst mistake I've ever made."

His admission seems to soften Laura's expression. She nods approvingly before freeing a hand to shake his. "I'm Laura, if you didn't catch it earlier."

"Scott," Lang says. "Thank you... for bringing the kids." He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly as he darts a sidelong glance in Barton's direction.

Sam's up next in introductions, and they exchange simple greetings. Until Laura turns in their direction, Bucky had been wondering if she missed them in the corner. There's a hardness in her expression when her gaze lands on Steve.

"Nate, why don't you go see Auntie Nat again?" She kisses his forehead as the toddler grumbles a protest. "Just a few more minutes, then we'll check on dinner, okay?" He nods shortly and releases her neck when Laura bends down to set him on the floor. Nate sticks his fingers in his mouth as he watches his mother walk across the room.

Steve stands up and Bucky follows suit. Something about sitting doesn't feel right. He's regretting that he didn't slip away earlier. This is getting to be a little much.

"Laura..."

"Don't." She holds up a hand to cut Steve off. Her lips press into a grim line as she stares at him. She speaks quietly, keeping her voice from carrying; "If my children weren't present I'd be punching that goddamn expression off your face. Do you have any idea what it's like to find out your husband's 'little trip to help a friend' is an all-out fight, broadcast through the evening news? To be unable to get any clear answers because some corrupt politician bastard overstepped the line and locked him away in a top secret prison?" She reins herself in with a deep inhale. Some of her rigidity loosens, weariness showing through, when she exhales. Her gaze darts to Bucky for a moment before focusing again on the blond. "I won't waste my breath, _Captain_ , but I do have a question for you."

Steve nods hesitantly. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Was all of it worth it? Given the chance, would you do it again?"

Bucky watches silently as his friend struggles to find the words for his reply. He knows Steve's answer and Laura won't be pleased. He wonders if Steve's even thinking about lying. He wonders if that would be easier.

Finally Steve gathers himself, chin tilting up stubbornly as he meets Laura's stare. "I wouldn't involve your husband."

"That doesn't answer my question, and don't you owe me that?" she prompts quietly, but Bucky can tell that she's realized the underlying truth.

"Based on what we knew at the time, I would choose to save my friend again, yes."

Laura nods tightly. Her gaze slides to Bucky and they stare at each other silently. He doesn't know what he's meant to say. She turns away without saying a word. Steve doesn't sit back down, looking shaken.

Deciding it's better for them to excuse themselves, Bucky steps closer to his friend and nudges his shoulder. Steve looks at him with troubled eyes. Bucky tips his head in the direction of the hallway, and Steve nods briefly in silent answer.

As they leave, Bucky hears Nate babbling about drawings to his mother and Lila insisting her father join them. Steve glances back but doesn't stop; Bucky follows.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barton Family Feels ran away from me. The scene was longer, actually, but I couldn't figure out where the hell it would end, or why Bucky would torture himself sticking around in the awkward.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tony meets his gaze. "Well, if you want. I'm guessing that you'll want into the field."_   
>  _A knot of anxiety settles in Bucky's stomach; he quickly releases the serving spoon before his grip warps the handle. He finds himself shaking his head before the words come. "I don't think so," he admits quietly._
> 
> There's an arm, alternate future opportunities, flirting, and game night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes the scene that caused Aliska to dub my Bucky a "flower child." :p
> 
> Other notes - I have been sick all week and working double the hours so I am ENERGY-SAPPED. My comment replies are delayed and also minimal at the moment for that reason.
> 
> Due to being sick and needing to do some adjustments to the final two chapters, updates are gonna be every-other day (basically, Aliska posts one day, I'm doing the other - which was initially unintentional, btw). 
> 
> Re: Friday -- you're all too observant and holding me accountable for something I was hoping to hand-wave. :p I'll be including an explanation in Revelations chapter.

It takes three more visits to the workshop for Bucky to accept the arm. Part of him thinks that Tony's reaction alone would be worth it; his expression lights up with excitement, smile wide and adding definition to the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. He claps his hands on Bucky's shoulders and calls for Friday to get the ball rolling. In that moment, Bucky's doubts and lingering sense of guilt fall aside, and the nervous fluttering feeling of his stomach comes from excited anticipation rather than apprehension.

It's a good afternoon despite the details Friday reminds them must be completed before anything can be scheduled. Tony's excitement calms down, but there's always a smile quirking his lips. Bucky frequently finds himself staring, often enough that Tony catches him at it a few times. Instead of calling him out, Tony gives him a quick wink and goes back to whatever he's doing. Bucky tells his heartbeat to calm the fuck down after those moments and somehow manages to turn his attention back to the procedures Friday's outlining; he has to sign more than his fair share of forms.

Tony goes back to the residences with Bucky that night to share a late dinner. Natasha, Sam, and Rhodey are around, picking through a collection of leftovers ranging from garden salad to falafels to enchiladas.

"Oh no, I know that look," Rhodes says as soon as they walk in. He points his fork, a cherry tomato pierced on its end, at Tony. "Did something blow up this time? Or are you trying to put roller skates on my armor again?"

Tony grabs a plate with a huff of feigned offense. "Excuse me, that was _one_ time with the skates. And those were DUM-E's idea." He isn't looking at Rhodey as he ducks his head over the dish of enchiladas; his lips twitch as he fights off a smirk, "I swear."

"Uh-huh..." Rhodes looks to Bucky with a raised eyebrow. "Do you know what the goofball is grinning about?"

Bucky lifts his shoulder in a slightly uncomfortable shrug. "I agreed to the arm?"

Sam grins and Natasha just eyes him thoughtfully. "Awesome! That means the rest of us finally get to see it."

Rhodes nods politely. "Congratulations. Tony, you didn't work in any surprises, did you?"

Tony scoffs as he drops into the chair next to Natasha. "Rude. It is a beautiful piece of perfection that doesn't require the bells and whistles." Rhodes' eyebrow just arches high with skepticism. Bucky grabs a plate and takes the seat next to Sam before reaching for the pita bread. Tony adds, "I'm saving that for the gear."

"There it is," Natasha murmurs with amusement. She shares a commiserating look with Rhodes.

"Gear?" Bucky asks cautiously.

Tony meets his gaze. "Well, if you want. I'm guessing that you'll want into the field."

A knot of anxiety settles in Bucky's stomach; he quickly releases the serving spoon before his grip warps the handle. He finds himself shaking his head before the words come. "I don't think so," he admits quietly.

Natasha's expression is neutral while Tony's blanks, like he doesn't know how to respond. After a few moments, he admits, "Huh. Can't say I anticipated that." With a small shrug, he continues, "Not a problem. Pretty sure the invite will remain open, whatever you decide."

Sam nudges Bucky's side as Rhodes and Tony start in on a conversation. Bucky glances over with a small frown. Sam leans in to murmur, "Have you told Steve?"

Bucky's lips press together in a tight line. "Why? Think he'd change my mind?"

Sam lifts a hand between them in a sign of surrender. "Didn't mean that, sorry. It's just that I've gotten the impression that he's hoping to have you at his side when we're cleared to apply for full Initiative membership."

"There's plenty of people, what's he need me for?" Bucky grumbles down at his food. He stabs a little viciously at the enchiladas he piled on half his plate.

With a sigh, Sam gives a little nod. "I know, but it'd be nice to give him a heads-up before he gets the plan cemented in his head."

"Hey Falcor, stop bumming out my favorite cyborg. It took forever to convince him to come around," Tony interrupts.

Bucky gives him an incredulous look. "Two weeks after I found out about it is 'forever'?" he asks.

"Okay, maybe that's a point... but I've been waiting for longer."

Natasha spears a pink pickled turnip off Tony's plate. "It's true."

Rhodey watches with amusement as Tony uses his fork to fend off Natasha's next theft. He looks away to tell Bucky, "I had to wrestle it out of his hands a couple times when he thought about just marching up to you with it."

This all leaves Bucky feeling baffled. He stares at Tony, still wondering why this means so much to the man. Regret for how Bucky lost his arm? Guilt? His chest feels tight at that, just as it has each time the other man offers some form of apology. Tony Stark owes him nothing, not even an apology.

"Hey!" Tony suddenly looks away from Natasha to give Bucky a smug look. "Genius thought from your resident genius: come visit the PT/OT clinic. You'll probably spend some time there after the surgery anyway."

Sam asks, "How's that a brilliant suggestion? Just sounds logical."

Natasha looks at Tony with narrowed eyes for a moment before nodding. "I think it's a good idea."

"What is?" Sam and Bucky ask at the same time. Tony's lips tick up in a broader smile.

"Freezer Burn isn't interested in heading into the field, but you don't strike me as a guy to sit around. Want something productive to do?"

Cautiously Bucky agrees, "Yes..." He isn't sure where this is going, especially since he isn't clear on what a "PT/OT clinic" is.

Sam seems to pick up on his lack of understanding. "He's talking about physical and occupational therapy. The Compound's got a pretty nice setup."

Rhodey nods. "With the number of employees plus taking into consideration the occupations they currently have or previously had, it made sense to include one. Then Tony started in on the new medical line—"

"And the rest is groundbreaking history," Tony boasts. "But getting back to my point. We've got two certified therapists on hand with rotating schedules, but I also want to start getting some off-site patients who're trying out the early models of Resilient prosthetics and aides. HR's going to figure out staffing, but a volunteer assistant wouldn't go amiss and hell, if you figure out you like what they're doing over there, we can figure out a way to get you into a college."

"Jumping the gun a little, Stark," Sam says, but his tone is surprised and thoughtful.

Bucky just stares across the table. Tony looks a little chagrined by Sam's remark, but the gaze he raises to meet Bucky remains enthusiastic.

Natasha remarks casually, "It would allow you to have a change of scenery without going far."

Rhodes hums thoughtfully. His gaze focuses on Tony, eyes slightly narrowed with a hint of suspicion. "It's worth visiting. " He turns his full attention to Bucky and offers a smile that's warmer than the politeness he usually directs his way. "I'm due in on Wednesday and could introduce you to Elteyeb, if you're interested."

Bucky feels more than a little dazed.

"You know what?" Sam's voice is startling in the expectant silence. "I think it's been a long day with some big decisions already made. Put a hold on shop talk?"

"How 'bout that game last night?" Rhodey suggests dryly.

Tony interrupts before Sam can retort, "I guess no shop talk means you're not interested in the Falcon gear upgrades."

"Wait, I take it back!" Sam says. He's smiling when he glares at Stark's smirk. "We're still seven weeks out from getting into the field, man."

"We all have our hobbies."

With attention now slipping away from Bucky, he can relax a little and finally eat. He has a lot to consider.

~

"Uh-oh," a laughing voice greets Bucky as he steps into the clinic. He locates Tony quickly, the other man looking his way from the edge of a blue mat. "Here comes trouble!" He turns his attention back to the woman carefully balancing on one leg with a hand hovering over a nearby rail. He winks at her. "Have you met our resident cyborg yet, Susie?"

Tony isn't often at the clinic when Bucky comes by. In the beginning, shortly after his arm was fully attached, Tony frequently attended Bucky's own PT sessions. Now, a month on and Bucky really only coming in to assist with others' therapy, he doesn't see Tony around much.

The woman lowers her held leg to the ground, and her expression visibly relaxes as she's able to shift her weight off the other foot. She glares tiredly at Tony. "Susanna, please, Mr. Stark," she says flatly. She's new, so it doesn't surprise Bucky when her gaze fixates on his arm. He doesn't bother covering it up when he comes to volunteer. He may have the shiniest covering, but he isn't the only one sporting advanced cybernetics around here.

"Go ahead," Bucky offers with a small smile as he watches her gaze stop around his elbow where his shirt ends with rolled-up sleeves.

She eyes him a little suspiciously but still asks, "How far does it go?"

"Over the shoulder," he says, the answer easier every time he speaks to someone new. He's used to the way her eyes widen in surprise. He steps closer so that he can hold his left hand out to shake. "I'm James." He's introduced himself this way to everyone at the clinic. He can't say that it feels any more or less comfortable than "Bucky," but it's worked for him so far. "James Barnes."

"Susanna Romana Rivera," she says as she takes his hand. She watches his grip with sharp eyes. Her thumb brushes briefly over the smooth plates of his hand before withdrawing abruptly, embarrassed.

Tony grins. "It's alright, it's hard not to get a little handsy with him."

Bucky casts him an exasperated look. "The way you talk about my arm is going to make people nervous about accepting your projects," he warns (not for the first time).

"Just for you, Snowflake." Tony's wink is more of an after-thought, the joking of his tone a little too soft. Susanna just looks between them with a raised eyebrow.

"Susanna, did you finish your set?" Elteyeb's voice comes from behind Bucky. A glance back reveals an annoyed expression on his face. "Dr. Stark, you're welcome here as long as you let the patients do their work." Elteyeb shifts his attention and grants Bucky a bright smile. "Corporal Williams is warming up on the elliptical. Check in on him and guide him into the balance practice when he's done, alright?"

Bucky nods his understanding before offering a farewell to Susanna and Tony. 

Hours later, he helps Elteyeb make sure the clinic is tidy and ready for cleaning staff to come in. Interspersed within observations of the day's sessions, Elteyeb offers chatter about life outside the Compound. Of the pardoned exiles allowed off-site, Bucky is the only one who hasn't ventured outside. Unlike most of the others, he has no one to visit. He doesn't have established ties beyond the Compound's perimeter. He's turned down every invitation or suggestion directed at him, something about the thought of stepping beyond the Compound's grounds makes his pulse-rate skyrocket.

"Hey James," Elteyeb starts as they head towards the door; "Not sure if you want to go out, but you seem to really like working in here so I thought I'd ask. Next week there's a seminar on holistic neuropathy treatment at the community college. Hour drive, three hour session with a break. I've seen the speaker before, and he's a great guy, an active practitioner and also an adjunct professor."

Bucky dips his head so that his hair falls forward to hide his frown. This is the first time he's received an invitation from someone outside of the Avengers. "Why?" he asks hesitantly.

"James," the therapist says, briefly resting his hand on Bucky's arm to get him to stand still. "You're in here almost every day, always getting involved and asking questions to get a feel for what's going on. Both Dr. Stark and Jim have mentioned you look comfortable in here." He shrugs a little. "Maybe it's worth exploring this work a little more. It's tough sometimes, but plenty rewarding. Maybe you'd have better luck with stubborn Supers thinking they don't need recuperative therapy after their injuries like mere mortals."

Bucky glances down at his metal hand and flexes his fingers. "Well..."

"Not everyone has enhanced healing capabilities." Elteyeb starts walking again; Bucky follows slowly. "You don't have to decide right now, but I wanted to put the idea out there."

Bucky doesn't answer until they're in the hallway preparing to part ways. Surprising even himself, his quiet answer is, "I'll think about it."

Elteyeb's smile looks almost proud. "Let me know if you have any questions. I'll see you Friday, James."

~

Bucky's first "game night" starts off with a rock-paper-scissors match over whose team he'll join. What follows is a crash course in learning how to play Halo. Peter sits next to him, calling out directions and reminding him which button does what. On the other side of the room, Sam cracks up when Bucky accidentally throws a grenade and ends up incapacitating his team. Vision's character swoops in during the distraction.

People trade off on games; Bucky's relieved to abandon the TV and join in on the more familiar Poker while Kitty puts in something called Splatoon.

During a break for food, Bucky bumps into Tony while reaching for the dish of lasagna. Tony leans away a little, amusement dancing across his face when their gazes meet. "I won't step in the way of a hungry Yeti. Please, help yourself to the food on offer rather than my hand."

"Yeti?" Bucky echoes as he serves himself. He finds warm bread sticks under a towel in the basket. Tony hums an affirmative as he adds food to his plate. Bucky shakes his head, holding back a smile. "You haven't used that one before."

"Variety is the spice of life, Sugarplum. Or so I hear." Tony moves down the table to the drinks; Bucky finds himself following automatically.

Bucky can feel several pairs of eyes on them, but he ignores them in favor of asking, "Does that mean I'm supposed to call you something other than Tony?"

The other man shrugs with an easy smile as he pours juice into a cup. He tilts his head toward Bucky and bats his lashes in an exaggerated fashion; with a teasing smirk, he says, "You can call me whatever you want, Honey." It doesn't come out much like a joke. Bucky's heart jackrabbits against his chest; Tony leans away, eyes widening with a look of panic.

Before he can second-guess himself, Bucky replies, "Sure thing, Doll." He gives himself a moment to appreciate Tony's gob-smacked expression before he quickly turns and makes a strategic retreat in sit amid the current videogamers. Here, at least, he can avoid getting cornered with an uncomfortably personal conversation.

 

As the evening wears on, Bucky plays several rounds of a card game called Uno before Clint challenges him to some bizarre fighting game called Skullgirls on the Xbox. ("She has arms coming out of her head." "Yeah? And my chick's got a giant shuriken attached to a tail. It's not logical, man.") The animation and bizarre characters end up being a little much for him. He happily passes the controller off to Peter after Clint thoroughly trounces him.

Eventually, as energy levels start to die down, Bucky settles himself in a free spot next to Tony on the couch. There's a tablet on Tony's lap, but his gaze is fixed on the TV with a look of fatigue. Bucky knocks their knees together and ends up startling the other man.

"Hey!"

Bucky nudges Tony again. "You could go to bed," he points out.

Tony scoffs and picks up his tablet, waking up the screen. "Way too early. We haven't even hit midnight."

With a shrug, Bucky relaxes into the corner and props his metal elbow on the arm of the couch. He doesn't completely hide his grin as he teases, "Should I carry you to bed when you fall asleep?"

Tony's stare seems to bore straight through the tablet as he mumbles something unclear under his breath. Bucky thinks that even without the colorful glare from the TV that Tony would look flushed. His own cheeks feel a little hot. He quickly looks away in hopes of not getting caught staring, which of course means that he immediately finds Natasha looking at him with amusement dancing in her eyes. He lifts his chin in silent challenge. She smirks before she returns to her game of chess against Maximoff.

Bucky turns his gaze determinedly toward the TV screen, a safe place to focus his attention. Although it starts off as a convenient focal point, he finds himself drawn in by the colorful stylized graphics of... is that circle supposed to be a spaceship? There are explosions sometimes and a laser. It seems like it's a cooperative game, judging by the argument about roles Sam, Rhodes, Kitty, and Clint are having. The thing that confuses Bucky the most is the heart-shaped portal that seems to mark the end of a level. It looks like a Valentine's card.

His attention is so attuned to the game that it takes a while for him to realize that the weight against his right side isn't going away. He turns his head to look. He can't see Tony's face but it's obvious that he has fallen asleep. Tony's hands lay limply in his lap, tablet slipping between his legs. A quiet snuffle interrupts his even breathing, and he shifts in his sleep. Bucky quickly reaches across his body to guide Tony's head more fully onto his shoulder so the genius doesn't slip off.

It doesn't occur to him until hours later, when he wakes to the weight of a blanket being laid over him, that he could've woken Tony up and sent him to bed. Even now, as he looks up through sleep-laden eyes at Rhodey, he doesn't move to wake Tony. Rhodey freezes as soon as Bucky stirs. They stare at each other, Bucky sleepily wondering why Tony's friend is draping a blanket over them rather than waking the genius. Eventually Rhodey sighs and breaks eye contact. He lets the blanket fall before tucking the edge around Tony's side.

As he straightens up, he looks back to Bucky. "Be careful," he says lowly, expression tight. He doesn't turn to leave until Bucky nods slowly.

The rest of the room's lights turn off when Rhodey is gone. Bucky stares blindly into the dark and turns his head a little to press his face against Tony's hair. He starts drifting off again, distantly aware that he lifts his arm to accommodate the body next to his as Tony wriggles around to get comfortable. 

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there may be revelations next chapter.... (Finally.)
> 
> Video game notes: Return of _Halo_. _Skullgirls_ is a bizarre fighting game, [take a look at the artwork](http://skullgirls.com/characters/cerebella/). The portal hearts co-op game is [_Lovers in a Dangerous Spacetime_](http://www.loversinadangerousspacetime.com/).


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Rough lunch with Steve," he admits. "It... rattled some things loose I'd pushed aside." Tony makes a quiet noise of encouragement. "And maybe... maybe I gotta get it out to get it gone. Does that make any sense?" he asks with a self-deprecating laugh._
> 
> Lunch out with Steve. And, at long last: revelations, horror, and heartbreak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first night Skye started reading: "WAIT. Up to THIS point, you haven't revealed WHAT they've done? !?!?!?! In all those #K?"
> 
> Yeah, this is nearly 21k in.

The way Steve's face lights up when Bucky agrees to head into town together makes him feel a little guilty about waiting so long to accept. His outing with Steve is the third time he's left the Compound; the previous times he attended seminars with Elteyeb and Marissa, another physical therapist at the clinic. 

Steve takes him to a burger joint that Bucky recognizes from mentions around the Compound. No one pays them much mind, despite Steve's face being pretty recognizable. The waitress does a double-take but doesn't comment as she rattles off the lunch specials.

After she disappears with their orders, Steve explains, "There's a few places like this that are pretty used to visits from Initiative members. It's quieter and if the press turns up, Vision says that they tend to keep outside after some confrontation last year."

Bucky feels the tension in his shoulders loosen a little. It's true that he hasn't seen anyone taking special notice, but being out in public has him automatically on edge. Lessening the opportunities for disruption helps, as does their booth's position in a corner that allows him to keep an eye on the rest of the room.

"Thanks," Steve says suddenly. When Bucky looks at him questioningly, he continues. "I'm glad you're ready to get out a little more. You're spending a lot of time at the clinic — you really like it?"

Steve draws him out with questions focusing on Bucky's volunteer schedule and growing interest in rehabilitation therapy. By the time their food comes, Bucky feels comfortable enough to talk about some of the highlights of the seminars he attended. He admits that he's considering looking at what educational program options might be available to him. Steve's engaged, nodding along and smiling encouragement. Bucky's caught up enough in talking about his hopeful plans that it takes him a while to get suspicious.

They're both on a second basket of fries when the line of conversation winds down.

"That sounds great, Buck. Gotta admit I still wish you'd be at my side when we get called out."

Bucky shrugs a little, holding back a frown. "I'd like to join on recovery efforts. But the other stuff? The fighting?" He shakes his head. Under the table he flexes the fingers of his left hand against his thigh. The movement is smooth and carries sensation of the denim beneath his fingertips. The old arm was designed with attention focused on brute strength and what allowed the Soldier to fight, Tony said. It had been a weapon, one more enhancement to the tool Hydra shaped. Now his arm is simply a part of himself, a limb replaced and integrated.

He finds himself smiling down at the table as he says, "I don't gotta act like a weapon anymore. I got my mind back and my body... Best as can be, at least. I don't wanna just end up doing the same things on a different side."

Steve replies earnestly, "It wouldn't be the same, Bucky. You have control now and that means _you_ decide what you'd do in a fight. You don't have to kill anyone, anymore."

Bucky feels his smile turn somewhat bitter as he looks up at his friend. "There'd always be a day where I ended up staring down the scope as some S.O.B.'s head explodes." He pushes on despite the way Steve grimaces. "That's what's waiting for me if I go out there. I can't do it again, Stevie," he says quietly. "We been to war an' I know it was right, but I killed those men in my right mind. When I wasn't..." He closes his eyes and heaves in a deep breath before releasing it slowly. "I won't add more blood on my hands. I can't wake up wondering when that next kill's gonna happen." He opens his eyes and meets Steve's distressed gaze. "Can you get that, Stevie?"

To his credit, the blond doesn't give a knee-jerk protest. Bucky can read the clench of his jaw, knows Steve wants to deny Bucky's fears, as if sheer stubbornness could ward off that grim future. Eventually Steve stops clenching his jaw. "Okay. I don't agree that's an inevitability, but okay. This... this thing's good for you, Buck."

Bucky consciously lets some of his tension go. His lips tug up into a small smile. The clinic work really has been great, giving him a purpose and allowing him a relatively safe place to interact with new people.

"I, uh..." There's something in Steve's hesitance that puts Bucky on alert. Steve won't quite look at him as he clears his throat and continues. "Can't help but notice all the time you're spending with Tony."

Bucky's eyes narrow as he stares across the table. Steve starts fidgeting with the remaining french fries. When he doesn't continue to speak, Bucky prompts in a flat tone, "Yeah?"

"It made sense, with working out the arm an' all. I guess I didn't... expect you to get close."

"You thought I'd hang around until I got something out of him?" Bucky asks incredulously.

"That's not what I meant!" Steve protests, finally meeting Bucky's eyes. His mouth twists unhappily at whatever expression he finds Bucky wearing.

"Then what did you mean?" Bucky crosses his arms on the table, leaning in. 

"It's a surprise. He's not easy to get close to, and things get complicated real quick..."

Bucky huffs out a frustrated breath. "Before you go digging the hole deeper, spit out what you really mean, Stevie. I don't feel like dancing around this bullshit."

Steve's lips press together in a tight frown. He stares at Bucky for a long moment before he straightens up just a bit, a familiar stubborn set to his jaw. "Okay," he says, seeming to brace himself. "I'm not blind, and I know you're pressing for something more. It's not a good idea. All his relationships are rocky, and it's worse with romantic entanglements. Plus you're working through a lot of stuff. You've got this great opportunity to go study and get a career, why not focus on that for now?"

"You done?" Bucky cuts in sharply. Steve's mouth shuts so quickly, Bucky hears his teeth click. "Uh-huh. You better be damn glad you're only spouting this shit at me, 'cuz someone else would punch your teeth in to shut you up. Is that why we really came out here?" Bucky clenches his hands when he sees the truth in Steve's lowered gaze. "Seriously? You just got done telling me you want me on the field, which implies you trust my decisions, but you clearly _don't_."

"That's not—" Steve makes a frustrated noise. He bows his head and rakes his fingers through his hair. "Damn it, that's not it at all. You can't tell me you think it's a _good_ idea to get close to him after everything that's happened!"

Bucky pushes back his lingering fears about the specter of Siberia. He clings to the memories of Tony sliding easily into his personal space. They've gravitated towards each other closer and closer since they fell asleep together weeks ago. It isn't unusual to find himself with his hand pressed to the small of Tony's back as they look something over in the workshop. More than once Tony's hand has slid its way into Bucky's back pocket when they run into each other in a common area and end up chatting. He knows he hasn't imagined several instances of near kisses, though they both pull away last second.

"I _think_ Tony and I can make decisions for ourselves; and if we're able to get past it? That's for us, Steve. Not you."

Steve freezes for a moment, though his expression is masked with his head still resting against his hand. He mumbles, "This is such a _bad idea_."

"Well it's a good thing you don't control my life," Bucky snaps. He glares at the tabletop for a moment. "I think we're done here." He shoves himself out of the booth, muttering, "I need a few minutes." He stalks out of the restaurant and hopes Steve gives him enough time to cool off before they have to share a ride back to the Compound.

~

Bucky spends an hour running when they get back. His anger continues to simmer as Steve's words cycle through his mind. He hates that his friend is telling him to keep away from Tony, implying Tony is a _problem_. Bucky hates that Steve has stirred up his own fears.

He abandons the track in favor of a shower and scrubs down roughly. He tries to focus on the moment, the heat of friction against his skin and the tug at his scalp as he yanks his fingers through his hair. No matter what he does, though, his mind circles around Steve's muttered _"This is a **bad idea**."_ It echoes the voice in his head that had held him back for weeks when he first found himself warming to Tony. _This will end in disaster._

"Stop," he mutters to himself, leaning his forehead against the tiles of the shower and closing his eyes. He focuses on breathing for a minute, counting out inhales and exhales. He'd told Steve that they could make their own decisions, and he reminds himself that the choices here belong to him and Tony, no one else.

Bucky straightens up and gingerly sticks his head back under the water and carefully finger-combs his hair. He's not going to let one lunch with Steve disrupt what he's working toward with Tony. Maybe with some more time he'll be up to arguing with Steve again, try and bring him around. But for now? He just wants to see Tony.

 

Walking through the door to the workshop, Bucky immediately feels like he can breathe easier. Tony's face lights up with a smile when his gaze trails away from his monitor. Bucky's smile probably looks more than a little dopey as he maneuvers around ongoing projects to reach Tony.

"Hey Tastee-Freez, what brings you to my lair?" He scoots his stool away from the work table and rolls in close to Bucky. It feels natural that he stops with his feet to either side of Bucky's; his hands slip into Bucky's back pockets, and he tilts his head up with a fond expression.

Bucky just stares for a few moments, enjoying the pressure and warmth of Tony's hands and the wrinkles at the corners of Tony's eyes when he really smiles. Without conscious consideration, Bucky runs the fingers of his right hand through the genius' hair. Tony's breath hitches slightly, and Bucky trails his fingers down the side of Tony's neck. 

"Tony...?" he murmurs as he curves forward.

"Yes." Tony's eyelids flutter half shut as he angles his head to meet Bucky's searching lips.

The first kiss misses, Tony's goatee ends up scraping against Bucky's lips. A nervous-sounding chuckle escapes Tony, but he doesn't pull back. Bucky places his hand behind Tony's head, and it's easier to aim the second time. Their mouths slot together and for a moment Bucky has the irrational panic that he's done this all wrong; Tony won't like it, Tony will laugh at his effort, Bucky will retreat from mortification.

Tony's fingers flex in Bucky's pockets. His lips part beneath Bucky's, and he darts his tongue out in a tentative lick. The encouragement pushes aside Bucky's panic, allowing him to refocus. He uses his left hand to guide Tony to a stand as they continue to kiss, never breaking apart very far. Tony blindly kicks the stool; it rattles across the floor and smacks into something. Bucky feels the other man's smile.

It's easy to get lost in the reassuring feel of Tony pressed close against him. Eventually their mouths slip apart, and they simply stand together. Bucky plays with Tony's hair as the other man rests his head against his right shoulder.

Tony breaks the silence, eventually. "You alright, Sugarplum? You came in looking pretty tense." Of course that just calls back said tension. "It's okay, whatever it is, we've got this," Tony reassures as he rubs soothing circles over Bucky's back. "You wanna tell me about it?"

Want doesn't really play a factor when it's something that needs to be in the open. Bucky refuses to let go of Tony, selfish enough to want the closeness and the protection offered by lack of eye contact. 

"Rough lunch with Steve," he admits. "It... rattled some things loose I'd pushed aside." Tony makes a quiet noise of encouragement. "And maybe... maybe I gotta get it out to get it gone. Does that make any sense?" he asks with a self-deprecating laugh.

"Sure. Thoughts get in a cycle and can only go ignored so long." Bucky can feel Tony making a face. "Ugh. Is this what my therapist tells me is 'getting it out in the open'?"

"Probably," Bucky agrees. He turns his head to press his lips against Tony's temple. "And it fucking sucks."

"He says it's important for communication," Tony whines half-heartedly.

Bucky feels the corner of his mouth curve up in a reflexive smile. "Mine says the same."

"Well, damn it. Can't even play the shrinks against each other." His joking manner falls aside as Tony slips a hand back into Bucky's pocket. "Your choice, Honey," he says gently. "Whatever you need."

The words make Bucky catch his breath. "That... When you— How can you _say_ that?" he murmurs. "With what we did to you, what _I_ did to you?"

"That political nightmare?" Tony's shoulders hunch as he shakes his head a little. "If we couldn't get past that, how could we promise to truly protect the world without bias?"

"I'm not talking about the Accords, Tony." Bucky has the faint hope that Tony will bring the conversation to where they both know it needs to go. Even a couple years' out from the events of Siberia, it's a risk to bring up the volatile emotions. When Tony doesn't take the lead, Bucky takes a deep breath and says on an exhale, "Siberia."

"What about Siberia?" Tony responds immediately, and it throws Bucky off. The tone isn't flat or angry or even flippant. There's a hint of honest curiosity in the question.

Bucky doesn't know how to respond at first. For a while he stares dumbly at the floor and tries to figure out why Tony would sound this way. Slowly, he starts to lean back so he can get a look at the other man's face. With a sigh of reluctance, Tony straightens and removes his hand from Bucky's pocket so that it's easier for them to stand face to face — still close, still touching.

Tony meets Bucky's gaze without hesitation. He looks expectant.

"Are you—?" Bucky cuts himself off immediately, ashamed that for even a moment he could think that Tony would string him along. Hesitantly, Bucky tries again. "That was... a lot to take in."

"We dealt with it in the end, right?" Tony offers a crooked, confused smile.

Bucky feels the prickling claws of apprehension along his spine as he stares at Tony. He can't halt the growing fear that they're somehow speaking at cross purposes.

"I mean the tape, Tony," he says quietly. "A-and what we did after."

Tony frowns. "What's that got to do with anything?"

Bucky can't make himself fully withdraw, but he does take a step back, sliding his hands to Tony's sides. Swallowing hard, Bucky waits another moment before speaking. He can't seem to make his voice go above a whisper. "Tony, you... you remember what Zemo showed us?"

"I don't get why we're talking about this," Tony says.

"Tony..." Bucky closes his eyes for a long moment. His heart is pounding a heavy rhythm in his chest, making his pulse throb throughout his body in startling definition. "Please, Sweetheart."

With a sigh, Tony answers, "We hardly got a chance to see whatever the hell he dug up since the Winter Soldiers woke up around then."

Bucky flinches back, hard enough that he breaks free from Tony's hold and stumbles a step away. His face feels cold as he stares at Tony with wide eyes. The other man looks completely baffled — and hurt.

"Honey—" Tony starts.

"They were already dead!" Bucky bursts out. Oh God. Oh _God_.

"Pretty sure we weren't attacked by zombies," Tony replies dryly. His eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Did you ever check with Steve to see if you were missing time? Is that why you asked to go back into cryostasis so quickly?"

Bucky can feel himself trembling. "Tony..." _What the hell?_ Tony takes a step forward, reaching out a hand. It's too much. "I killed her!" he shouts, making the other man freeze in place, expression bewildered. "I— How do you—? What do you think happened?"

He wraps his left arm around himself as he starts to shake. The fingers of his right hand thread into his hair and he pulls a little, hoping the sting might wake him up. "This isn't happening," he mutters. "They were dead. It was never about the Soldiers. Zemo, he wanted... It was all about the Avengers. Revenge. And— I'm so _sorry_."

Tony shakes his head a little, gaze dropping to the floor as he blinks quickly. "He wanted us to turn on each other, I know. And then he was going to set the Soldiers loose."

"No," Bucky shakes his head, muttering the denial over and over until he feels Tony's hand on his shoulder. He looks up into concerned brown eyes — _her_ eyes had been the same color, he remembers with painful clarity. "They were dead when we got there," he explains in a small voice; distantly he realizes that he sounds scared. Tony's other hand curves over his hip. "You came, and we saw they'd all been shot in the head. He never woke them up. He didn't _care_."

"They woke up and attacked," Tony says, nodding a little as if Bucky hasn't said the opposite. "It was almost too much for us."

"That's _wrong_! Sweetheart, please. _Please_ tell me what you saw on the tape."

Tony tilts his head a little, and the light reflects in his eyes briefly with a spot of red. "I already said we didn't get the chance to see much. Training or something, showing what they could—"

"It was me!" Bucky moves without thought, his hands grasping at Tony's arms in desperation. "The road and the car and your _parents_. Don't you—?" 

A vacant expression crosses Tony's face as he repeats, "It was training or some—"

"I killed them," Bucky says in a rush. 

"—thing. Zemo was showing off—"

He shakes Tony a little. "It was my mission, and I'm _so sorry_."

The other man's words cut off abruptly. Bucky's staring him right in the eye when a bright red light sparks in the middle of his pupils. 

Tony blinks and his lips twitch up in a sad smile. "I went to find you and Steve because I finally had evidence that you were framed. That bastard Zemo wasn't done, though, sicced the Soldiers on us before he ran off."

Bucky can't bear to look at Tony's face anymore. He isn't strong enough to pull away when Tony starts tugging him closer. Bucky drops his head against Tony's shoulder while he shakes, a wave of dizziness overtaking him as his stomach roils with horrified confusion.

"Damn strong bastards. Thank god it was the three of us, I don't think even Cap would've managed on his own. I should've waited to take that shot, though... I'm so sorry I lost you the arm—"

"Don't." The harshness of Bucky's voice cuts Tony off. Feeling like he's going to throw up, Bucky lifts his head and takes an unsteady step back. He pushes Tony away and shakes off the gentle hands. "I killed your parents," he confesses, waiting for the realization to change Tony's expression from concerned to horror. It doesn't. "I _killed your parents_ ," he repeats, hands clenching into fists at his sides. The red light sparks in Tony's pupils again, but this time it spreads to glaze over his eyes.

"The Soldiers—"

"Were _dead_!" Bucky yells. "The video, Tony! We _saw_ what happened." The next words feel like a noose tightening around his neck, but he manages to choke out, "I-I bashed in Howard's f-face." He's crying and he isn't sure when he started. He flinches away as Tony tries to reach for him again, expression pained and worried. "I... oh God, Tony... Your mother... I s-strangled her!"

"Honey, shh, I don't understand." Tony keeps reaching out, but Bucky steps back, stumbling away again and again.

"This can't be happening. I c-can't—" He feels like collapsing but manages to turn and sprint for the door.

He runs, terrified and confused, his thoughts bleeding together in a jumbled mess.

Somehow he finds himself in the residential lobby with emergency lights flashing and Friday calling, "Stand down and remain here, Barnes. Please do not attempt to leave."

The elevator opens, and he whirls to face it. Sam, Clint, and Rhodes spill out through the doors wearing expressions of wariness and confusion. The stairwell door bangs open and Steve runs out, Natasha a second behind.

"Friday, cut the noise," Rhodes orders as he flicks his hand out in a gesture for the others to spread out.

"Buck? What's going on? What's wrong?" Steve asks worriedly. He's the only one braving an approach.

It takes a few false starts for Bucky to get out, "Siberia. _You_ remember, right?"

At "Siberia," Steve freezes in place, face going pale. Bucky takes a step forward, hands shaking as he raises them — maybe to reach for his friend, he isn't sure.

"What about it?" Steve asks carefully, something about his tone setting off alarm bells in the back of Bucky's mind, but it's too hard to grasp onto its meaning right now.

"Tony doesn't remember," Bucky says. He wavers on his feet, the adrenaline that had rushed through his system becoming too much. "He doesn't _know_."

"Know what?" Natasha asks, suddenly at his side.

Bucky stares at her helplessly and ends up slumping towards her. With a quiet grunt, she bears his weight and guides him toward the floor, kneeling with him as he tries to gather his words. Her gaze is piercing, expression blank. Steve isn't speaking. Why isn't Steve speaking? It's so _hard_ to say it again.

"I-I killed them," Bucky whispers. Natasha's eyes narrow minutely. "He won't listen."

"Killed who?" Rhodes asks cautiously as he slowly rounds into view, still keeping his distance. Bucky notices that the man's hands are covered in armored gauntlets; he'd seen the newest bracelet models in Tony's workshop.

Bucky stares at the gunmetal gray gauntlets and the dark repulsors on the palms; it's easier than looking the man in the eye.

"Bucky, you don't—"

"I killed Tony's parents," he confesses. His lips stay parted in the heavy silence that follows. Natasha's hands don't move from him even as he gives a full-body shudder. He feels numb and detached.

"Where," Rhodes' voice comes out low and cold, "is Tony?"

Bucky raises his eyes to the man's stony face. "The workshop," he whispers. "He wouldn't listen."

That breaks the stony expression, Rhodes' forehead creasing as he frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Hey!" Across the lobby, behind Bucky, Tony shouts a protest. "The hell's going on? Barton, that better not be the prototype crossbow that should be on the training range. Rhodey, careful where you're pointing those things!"

Bucky closes his eyes and bows his head. Natasha continues to brace him upright.

"Tony, are you okay?" Rhodes demands, a cross between concerned and frustrated. "You aren't hurt?"

"Huh? Why would I be— You think _James_ did something to me?" He sounds horrified by the suggestion, as if it could never happen — _had_ never happened. Bucky's breath catches in his chest. "Snowflake, what's— Wilson let me go."

"Tony, I think you need to stay there for now," Natasha says calmly. "We're all trying to figure out what's going on."

"Friday?" Rhodes barks.

"I don't have records of the incident. The location scrambled my direct connection to the suit, and the local files within the suit were too corrupted by battle damage to be uploaded to my mainframe."

Bucky opens his eyes again. He looks to Natasha helplessly, searching for some sort of guidance in this mess. She stares at him searchingly for long moments. Eventually she dips her head in a small nod. She looks behind Bucky.

"Tony, in Siberia did you find out that the Winter Soldier killed your parents?" she asks, nothing unsteady about her voice.

After a pause, Tony says, "There was a tape—" Bucky hears several sharp inhales "—with the Soldiers training... or something, I dunno. We were soon busy with—"

"The Winter Soldier was sent to kill Howard and Maria Stark," Natasha cuts in with ruthless efficiency. Bucky swallows hard.

"Training or something," Tony repeats, sounding distant; Bucky can imagine the vacant expression taking over again.

"No, Tony," Bucky murmurs, shaking his head a little.

There's no response, but Sam suddenly hisses, "What the hell?" and Rhodes takes a step forward.

Natasha's expression is hard as she stares past Bucky. "His eyes," she mutters, almost to herself.

Bucky looks to Steve. He isn't sure why he first looks to the blond — instinct, perhaps, when he's searching for reassurance, even after their disastrous lunch. Instead of comfort, he finds something that makes his blood run cold. The blond's gaze is averted, expression pinched — but that isn't bewildered _concern_.

One second Bucky is kneeling next to Natasha, the next he's slamming into Steve and knocking them both to the floor.

"What happened?" Bucky shouts the demand inches from Steve's face as he kneels on the blond's chest, pinning him to the floor. Steve gives a token struggle, eyes closing as he turns his head away. The urge to vomit is back as Bucky hangs over his friend, waiting with sick anticipation. "What did you _do_?" he hisses.

Peripherally Bucky's aware of the others drawing closer. Without looking up he can see Natasha's and Rhodes' feet to his right.

"Rogers?" Rhodes' demand is clear.

Speaking so quietly that Bucky might be the only one to understand, Steve says, "It was to protect you."

Bucky braces his hands on either side of the blond's head and snaps, "What. Did. You. _Do_?"

Quietly Rhodes orders, "Friday, I think we need detainment procedures."

"Yes, Colonel, I believe so," the AI intones with a voice colder than Bucky's ever heard.

Steve inhales as deeply as he can with Bucky's knee on his chest. He turns his head and meets Bucky's gaze with pained eyes. "He almost _killed_ you. I couldn't... I couldn't lose you again. He ended up helping you. I-it worked out for the—"

"Who was it?" Barton snaps. "Who the _fuck_ did you get to twist his memory?"

Tony suddenly speaks again, but his voice is small and confused. "Wilson? What's... Why're we all standing around? Whoa... dizzy." Sam speaks to him quietly and despite Tony's protests, Bucky hears them walk away.

Rhodes' voice shakes with tension as he accuses, "It was the witch. Maximoff wouldn't take much convincing, would she?"

Bucky's body shakes with coiled tension that begs to be released. His vision blurs, and all he wants to do is slam his fist into the person who attacked Tony. But it's Steve under him, staring up at him with guilty blue eyes. _Enemy,_ hisses part of his mind. _Friend,_ murmurs another, scared voice.

Bucky shoves himself away before he gives into temptation because he doesn't think he would stop if he gets going. He gets shakily to his feet and takes several steps away, teeth gritted as he breathes heavily.

Steve pushes himself upright with a wince. "Buck—"

Barton's fist swings down in a full-force punch unlike anything thrown during sparring. His face is pale and twisted in stricken rage. The force of his attack is enough to knock the blond back to the floor, blood dripping from his nose and a cut lip.

Rhodes' gauntlets are bright as he aims them at the prone blond groaning quietly.

Barton's lips part as if he wants to speak, but he doesn't say a word. His hands remain fisted, shoulders shaking with tension.

Overwhelmed, Bucky turns around and paces away.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REMEMBER THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING.
> 
> (Aliska, here you are - some Steve-punching for you.)
> 
> Re: Natasha - Natasha has come up in a number of comments, particularly in terms of knowing about the Winter Soldier's mission to kill the Starks. That detail is very hand-wavey in this story. She is not meant to be maliciously withholding any information, however. Make of that what you wish.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"James, we're not detaining you."_   
>  _"You should," he says quietly._   
>  _"No," Natasha retorts sharply. "That would serve nothing but your self-pity."_
> 
> A bit more heartbreak before your regularly scheduled chick-flick ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behind on responding to comments and posting from work! Uh... Enjoy?

“-es.”

“James.”

Bucky’s focus snaps to Natasha as her voice registers.

"We need to get a statement on record," Natasha tells him, eyes sharp when he darts his stare towards her. "Friday, have an authorized representative waiting for us."

Sam approaches them, slipping between two of the heavily-armed agents standing guard as some semblance of order is sorted out. Sam gives Bucky a concerned look before turning to Natasha. "It's clear he didn't know about whatever led to this. You shouldn't be locking him up."

"We're not," Natasha answers firmly. Bucky still feels too shocked from the recent revelations to question or counter her reply. "However, we need to get James' version of events."

"Then I'd like to come with." Sam crosses his arms, stubborn expression settling into place.

"That's James' call."

It takes a long moment for Bucky to realize they're both looking at him, waiting for a response. He blinks slowly as he tries to focus on this conversation. "That's fine," he mumbles. 

"You okay for this?" Sam asks quietly, unfolding his arms as he draws closer to Bucky's side.

Bucky lets his gaze drift, taking in the tight knot of people around Steve. Rhodes stands nearby, expression cold as he gives orders about detaining the super-soldier. Barton is across the room sitting beside Tony, gaze distant. Tony has a hand over his eyes, and his shoulders are tense, both signs of a headache.

"James," Natasha presses.

He nods, attention snapping back to her. No one knows what happened in Siberia. With a sinking feeling, Bucky realizes this means that the pardons were offered without being fully informed.

He looks to Tony as Natasha places a hand on his arm and begins to guide him to the doors. Tony drags his hand down his face and looks around with a concerned frown. When his gaze falls on Bucky, his eyes widen, and he jumps to his feet. "Hey! Where are you taking him?"

Barton grabs Tony's arm, holding him in place with a grim expression. Tony pulls against the hold, a curse falling past his lips. Bucky looks away and quickens his steps during the distraction. He hears his name shouted, the genius' voice filled with confusion and a trace of panic.

Natasha pushes him through the door.

~

Sam sits next to Bucky in the small meeting room as a stoic-faced woman in a suit settles in a seat across from them. She runs through a legal spiel that informs Bucky that video and audio will be recorded and what he says could be used in future proceedings. 

He recites the events of Siberia in precise detail, falling back on the process that the Asset needed to follow in order to carry him through the memories. Unlike the past when the Asset cared for nothing except efficiency and mission success, Bucky knows that he is unable to completely hide his emotions in the retelling. Sam remains a steady presence at his side, and the agent doesn't give away any reaction as he speaks.

When he's finished, the agent has some questions for him that start to paint a picture of Tony's account of events.

"What were the states of the Winter Soldiers when you arrived in the chamber?" Bucky repeats his description.

"Helmut Zemo was within reach, according to your account. Why did none of you detain him?" He points out the video and the distractions of volatile emotions.

"Please explain again how your cybernetic arm was severed." He does so. "You were not engaged in combat with an enemy combatant when Iron Man fired?" No.

"Captain America's shield was left with Iron Man?" Those details are unclear, Bucky's memories blurred by pain and guilt at the end. 

"You and Captain America walked away from Iron Man when the armor had been damaged beyond field repair and did not verify he had assistance leaving?" The affirmative answer tastes like copper on his tongue; the next breath he takes carries ice to his lungs.

"Thank you, Sergeant Barnes," the agent finally says. She folds up her small computer and stands up.

"What happens now?" Sam asks.

"I will hand over the testimony to the lead of legal affairs with the Initiative Council. Regarding your current status, Sergeant Barnes, there is no immediate change. Someone will be in contact today to detail what to expect moving forward."

Bucky nods silently. The agent leaves the room, but Natasha slips inside before the door closes. She takes the free seat next to Bucky and angles to face him. Her expression doesn't give much away.

"James, we're not detaining you."

"You should," he says quietly. 

"No," she retorts sharply. "That would serve nothing but your self-pity."

"Nat..." Sam warns. To Bucky, he says, "This situation isn't your fault."

"Tony reported his understanding of events to a committee after a five-day hospital stay," Natasha informs them. "King T'challa also made a statement when he handed over Zemo. Their accounting of events were similar enough to pass questioning. Unless his royal highness conspired to keep the truth secret, Tony didn't disclose the details to anyone before his memories were altered."

Bucky's jaw is clenched so tight he can't speak.

Sam asks the important question. "Do you know what happened, yet?"

"Waiting on full details." Natasha's hand curls into a fist on the table; tension lines her entire body. "We know that Rogers took Maximoff to Munich on the fourth day of Tony's hospital stay, two days before his testimony."

"If he hadn't busted us out..." Sam mutters, shaking his head.

"It's done," she cuts off the thought. "We have immediate concerns to address. Detaining Maximoff is a delicate operation, considering her powers."

Looking on-edge, Sam asks, "Does she have any idea what's going on?"

Bucky remembers the red light in Tony's eyes. Memories of the Chair and a little red journal flood his thoughts. In a fraction of the time, an angry young woman could worm her way in and _twist_ — 

_Steve_ brought her to a target, to Tony. Had he stood next to her while she rooted around Tony's mind? Was Siberia the only memory meddled with? What had Steve hoped to gain?

"—ames."

Bucky breathes in sharply, and his attention snaps to the present. Natasha pins him with a steady stare, which helps ground him. Sam carefully lays a hand on Bucky's shoulder.

"Hey, man, they're on top of it."

Natasha confirms, "Vision is working with Wong and Dr. Strange on their approach as quickly and safely as possible. Friday's monitoring in the meanwhile."

After her prolonged silence, Friday's voice is almost startling; "All non-essential personnel have been guided away from the residences. The Vision, Dr. Strange, and Mr. Wong will be advancing shortly."

Natasha acknowledges the news with a nod and a quiet, "Thank you."

"Then what?" Bucky murmurs.

"I'm honestly not sure," Natasha admits with a weary frown. "For now they plan to seclude her in Kamar-Taj, where her powers can be contained."

"Mr. Barnes?"

Bucky's gaze darts to the corner camera. He wonders if Friday will tear into him now. "Yeah?" He braces himself for her anger.

"Boss is waiting for you in the workshop."

Bucky drops his head into his hands. "I can't," he says quietly. Not now that he knows Tony is missing such a key memory.

"But—"

"I _won't_ ," he cuts in. He presses his fingers tight against his head as he sucks in a breath. "Not unless he _knows_ ," he adds faintly. 

If Tony still wants to see him after the truth.

~

A quiet _"Buck"_ is the greeting he receives as he passes through the doorway. On the other side of the thick glass, Steve gets up from the edge of his small cot. The clear-walled chamber is supposed to hold up against the likes of demigods and the Hulk. However, Steve hadn't struggled during his apprehension and hasn't insisted on being released. He has been asking for Bucky.

Bucky knows Friday is monitoring everything and that there may be others watching and listening. He doesn't think it really matters.

"Why?" The question cuts harshly through the air. Steve flinches where he stands, halfway to the clear wall separating them. The pained expression he wears doesn't move Bucky. "You admitted to directing that witch to twist someone's mind. _You_ , Steve? You claimed he was your _friend_."

Steve holds his hands out, palms up in supplication. "To protect you." His eyes are pleading. "Tony was trying to kill you, and he _wouldn't listen_!"

"Was that normal behavior?" Bucky crosses his arms as he stares coldly at the blond.

"No, of course not." Steve shakes his head. Slowly he moves closer to the wall between them. "I'd never seen him like that."

Bucky closes his eyes briefly. "So instead of thinking about it as a high-stress anomaly you thought, what, he was gonna track me down and kill me?"

"He could have," Steve argues, chin tilted up in challenge.

Bucky closes the distance between them in seconds and slaps his hands against the glass. He can feel a faint vibration under his palms. Steve stares wide-eyed at him. "Just how little do you trust him?" he demands, low and harsh.

It takes a while for Steve to answer. His gaze slides above Bucky's head, an obvious avoidance of eye contact. "I couldn't risk your life like that."

Bucky bows his head, teeth clenching in frustration. He curls his metal hand into a fist and slams it against the wall.

"I... I don't regret protecting you," Steve says quietly, voice wavering. "But, God, what happened to Tony..."

"What _you_ did," Bucky snaps the correction. He lifts his head and locks eyes with Steve. "It happened because of _you_ , Steve."

The blond nods slowly, expression pinched. There's a telltale shine of unshed tears in his eyes. "I know. And that... I shouldn't ha—"

"But you'd do whatever it took to 'protect' me," Bucky interrupts. He doesn't need to wait for Steve's reply. With another smack of his fist against the wall, Bucky turns and paces away. He feels sick with the knowledge that somehow Steve found it acceptable to go tearing into someone's mind, regardless of reason. It feels even worse knowing that Steve crossed unforgivable lines by justifying it as protecting _him_.

"Please," Steve murmurs behind him. "Buck... I screwed up. I didn't know..." he trails off, and there's a world of ways for that sentence to end.

Bucky turns around to look at the blond. Steve is at the wall, one hand against the glass as he watches Bucky forlornly. The stubborn clench of his jaw is gone. His shoulders sag with the weight of obvious distress.

"Y'know, it doesn't matter why," Bucky tells him. "You think I can just accept that you had a part in, had _ordered_ screwing around with someone's mind? Who's gonna forgive you for that?" Steve squeezes his eyes shut. Bucky watches with a sense of detachment as a tear leaks past Steve's lashes. "You keep doing these things, saying it's to protect me, but it ain't. You're making it about you and screw the rest."

"That's not... Please, that's _not_ it at all."

"How little do you trust him?" Bucky asks again, ignoring Steve's quiet words. "If you couldn't put any faith in Tony Stark, then why the hell didn't you just finish it?"

Steve jerks back, eyes wide. " _No_ , I _never_ wanted him dead. I would never—"

"You almost did," Bucky whispers. His organic fingers tremble at his side. 

_He can see their silhouettes, backlit with cold, cold white light and blurred from his pain: Steve kneeling, straddling the downed armored figure with his shield raised. He can't remember if Tony had his hand up; Bucky isn't sure which way would be worse._

Steve doesn't respond. He looks haunted and pale. His stare doesn't quite fall on Bucky. They stand in silence, and Bucky doesn't know how long they would have continued if Steve's gaze hadn't suddenly sharpened. Bucky half-turns to look back at the door and freezes.

Tony stands in the hall, not even a full step away from the doorway. His face is pale, expression drawn. He stares across the room at Steve. It feels like time stops in that moment. Bucky's chest feels too tight to breathe as he takes in the subtle changes in the way Tony carries himself.

 _He knows._ He feels a cold wash of relief and despair. _It's better he knows,_ he assures himself, and he doesn't doubt that. Accepting it doesn't get rid of the painful feeling of loss.

Hurt and anger war for dominance in Tony's eyes as he continues to stare at Steve. His mouth twists, a sharp grimace, before he turns on his heel and vanishes down the hall. He doesn't give indication that he noticed Bucky's presence.

Steve is so quiet that Bucky almost doesn't hear his soft, "I didn't want to hurt him." He doesn't meet Bucky's incredulous glare. "A-and I... I couldn't risk losing you."

Bucky feels hollow as he stares at the man he has called his best friend for most of his life. The taste of copper is on his tongue again. "You did," he pushes the words past numb lips.

Steve bows his head and his shoulders tremble tellingly. Bucky finds he can't muster up the energy to feel anything but cold.

~

It's three days since he went to see Steve. Three days since the magic-users lifted whatever spell had been put on Tony's mind. 

Bucky lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It's half past one in the morning and he has yet to find sleep. He rolls onto his side, reaching for the tablet he set aside earlier. The screen lights up under his fingers, and he quickly navigates to his e-mail. The link he follows brings up the details of several apartments. Any of the options will put him close to campus; in four months he'll begin his program.

"Why are you looking at that?" Friday speaks up.

Holding back a groan of frustration, Bucky directs a glare at the corner. "Ever heard of privacy?" He knows he sounds snippy.

"I am the epitome of discretion," Friday counters. "Well?"

He drops the tablet on the bed and drags a hand over his face. "Think it'd be obvious," he mutters.

"Perhaps, but it doesn't make sense." The AI points out, "You have a place to live right here."

"For now." Bucky pushes himself upright and moves to the edge of the mattress. "I accepted something that wasn't freely given." He's tried to explain this more than once to the AI in recent days. Usually she backs off with a comment about him clearly needing more space to think.

"Nothing has been retracted, Mr. Barnes. There is no reason to leave."

"Friday..."

"If you'd just talk to Boss—"

"Did he ask to?" Bucky cuts her off. He manages to keep his tone cool even though his heart clenches with anticipation.

Her hesitance is answer enough. "No," she confirms reluctantly.

Bucky shakes his head. "Then stop pushing this!" He shoves himself off the bed and strides toward the door where he left his shoes. "You need to leave it alone."

"Your stubborn behavior benefits no one, Mr. Barnes," Friday notes with a hint of irritation.

"Your nosy behavior isn't doing any good, either," he retorts as he yanks his shoes on and ties the laces tight. "I don't need you to tell me what to do."

"I'm merely recommending courses of action that will be more productive than retreating to prior behavioral patterns."

Bucky waves her off without responding. He exits his rooms and jogs down the steps instead of taking the elevator. As he passes through the external doors, he pretends that his choice to run toward the track instead of the forest has nothing to do with the memory of Tony sitting on a bench, waiting for him.

~

Bucky glances through the messages on his phone as he rides the elevator up to his suite. With new advice from Elteyeb, Bucky mentally crosses off some of the apartments he was looking at. The elevator stops without a sound, which he doesn't acknowledge with more than a passing thought as he steps through the doors. 

He's halfway down the hall when he hears _Whir beep!_ He looks up from his phone and waits for the noise. This time he hears _Whoop beep whir-whoop!_ Pretty sure the sounds belong to Boo, Bucky heads toward the shared kitchen area where some thumps and human cursing follows another series of whoops. He wonders what Boo is doing here since he's only seen her in the residences when Peter is around. 

"—wedged in there?"

Bucky stops short in the doorway as he belatedly recognizes the muttering voice. He stares blankly at Tony's back. The genius is perched oddly with one knee on the counter beside the stove and his opposite foot braced on a chair. Next to his knee is a curved metal panel from the stove's hood. Boo's claw pokes out through the open section. She wobbles back and forth, whirring pathetically.

"Seriously, what the hell are you doing in here?" Tony's tone is scolding as he leans down to look under the hood. "And what are you even stuck on? It shouldn't be that hard to reverse, y'know."

Boo chirps a retort, and Bucky hears her flap the mobile panels of her base against the metal she's stuck inside. Her claw and camera turn and catch sight of Bucky. He freezes for a moment too long. Boo's excited _whee whoop whoop_ accompanies her sudden drop from inside the hood.

"I told you!" Tony leans away as Boo flies past him. Bucky quickly steps back before he's spotted, but he isn't able to convince himself to retreat. "You faker!" Tony shouts as Boo zooms out into the hallway.

Boo hovers in front of Bucky, panels flapping open and shut in an agitated manner. She bows in close enough that he has to lean back before her claw hits his face. _Whir whoop whir-whir clack._

Bucky hears the chair being pushed across the kitchen floor. Boo beeps and clicks rapidly at him, nudges his shoulder, and then abruptly bobs back. Her claw pointedly swings between him and the kitchen doorway.

From inside, Tony says, "You really going to walk away?"

Bucky closes his eyes and takes a fortifying breath. Boo whirs quietly. By the time Bucky opens his eyes, Boo is halfway down the hall.

With hesitant steps, Bucky makes his way into the kitchen. Tony is standing at the counter and running his fingers over the removed panel. Bucky scuffs the toe of his shoe against the floor in lieu of speaking to draw attention. Tony's head jerks up, and he turns.

A few moments of awkward silence pass before Tony asks, "Were you going to wait for an invitation?"

"I didn't want to push things, " Bucky admits. He can't quite meet Tony's eyes.

With a huff, Tony shakes his head. He crosses his arms and aims a glare at the place Boo had been "stuck." When he speaks, he doesn't address Bucky. "I know you had a hand in this, Fri."

"Did you give me hands, Boss?" The AI mimics confusion well.

"Ha ha. We'll be having words," Tony warns.

Dropping the innocent act, Friday protests, "He's looking at moving, Boss!"

Bucky aims an incredulous glare at her camera, momentarily ignoring Tony's surprised "What?"

"Privacy, Fri?" Bucky reminds irritably.

"Whoa, no, back up," Tony demands, hands raised in a signal to stop. "Moving where? Why?"

Bucky gives himself a moment as he rubs at his neck. He doesn't raise his gaze above Tony's elbow when he answers quietly, "I thought that might be best."

" _Best?_ For what? For who?" Tony's hands drop to his sides as his fingers curl into fists. "You're just gonna... run?"

Bucky frowns tightly at the accusing tone. He finally meets Tony's gaze and isn't able to read the emotions he finds there.

After a long, drawn-out moment, Tony's expression blanks. In a flat tone, he asks, "Did you know?"

"No," Bucky instantly responds through a pained hiss. " _Fuck_ no. I'd _never_ —" He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. He pushes his fingers through his hair roughly and shakes his head. "Christ. I'd _never_ condone it, not for anyone. Even if it hadn't happened to- to someone I care about." He swallows hard before opening his eyes.

Tony's blank mask isn't holding as strongly; there's something vulnerable in the way his brows curve inward. "If you didn't know... then it was real?"

The implication leaves Bucky feeling gutted. He stares helplessly at Tony. "You think I could deceive you like that?"

Tony looks away, grimacing as he crosses his arms tightly over his chest like he's holding himself together. Quietly he mutters, "There's always a possibility." The words sound heavy with a history of betrayal.

"Tony..." Bucky whispers. He feels heartsick.

The genius shakes his head sharply. "No, wait. We're getting off track." He rubs a hand over his mouth in a nervous gesture. "My point is, if you didn't know, why leave now?"

"Should I even be here?" Bucky asks. "If anyone else had known the full story, would I be here?" Natasha and Sam assure him that the original terms of his pardon remain in effect. Friday insists that he should stay in the Compound residence. The closest he's gotten to paying the consequences for his actions has been Tony's distance.

He sees Tony's expression crumble before the other man turns his back and paces away. Bucky takes a shaky step back and sags against the wall. He presses the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. "God. I mean, you—"

"What do you think I'd have done?" Tony interrupts. There's a thread of resignation in his defensive tone; it makes Bucky pause and consider his response more carefully. He remembers his words to Steve — _"Just how little do you trust him?"_ It dawns on him that he was about to do the same disservice.

Shoving aside the downward spiral of guilt, Bucky looks up and across the room. Tony is still facing away, his hands braced against the countertop with his shoulders hunched toward his bowed head.

"You'd have helped." They're the first words Bucky has managed to say with confidence since entering the room. Tony spins around, eyes wide with surprise. Bucky pushes himself away from the wall and takes a few cautious steps forward. He continues, "Maybe... Probably not as close." It's painful to imagine missing out on the opportunity to know this man. "But you'd help: clear my head, include me in the pardons, make sure I had a place to go." He remembers the night he'd first visited the workshop and the conversation he had in the common room after. He stares Tony straight in the eye as he says, "You fix things... and people. It's what you do." He thinks about how little time it took him to understand this about Tony. His heart spasms painfully as he wonders how Steve could have missed it.

Tony looks stunned, his jaw dropped a little as he continues to stare at Bucky with wide eyes.

The silence hangs between them for several minutes. Slowly Tony's surprise softens to confusion. After a few false starts, he asks, "Then why are you leaving?"

Bucky grimaces. "I... What I did, and what happened, still changes things." His gaze drops to the floor. "You didn't remember. That's... not an informed choice. It's gotta be hard to be near me." He drags his hand over his face and releases a shaky sigh. He admits quietly, "And I'm not sure I can bear to walk into a room and have you leave. I don't think I can handle you walking away from me."

"You think I _can_?"

Bucky looks up sharply at the break in Tony's voice. He sees his own uncertainty and pain reflected in the other man's features. Swallowing thickly, Bucky murmurs, "I... I don't know." He'd thought it might not be a problem for Tony. It's been a week without crossing paths or even a message exchanged between them. There's been no indication that Tony has an interest in bridging the gap left after the revelation of Steve's actions.

Tony slumps back against the counter and covers his eyes with one hand as he releases a watery laugh. "Fuck. That- that _bastard_ doesn't get to take this away from me."

Bucky steps forward instinctively but stops partway. His fingers twitch with the desire to reach out. 

"I-I'm still processing," Tony mutters at the floor as he drums his fingers restlessly against the countertop. He shakes his head, expression twisting in a grimace. 

"To—" 

"Don't— _please_ don't just leave." Tony looks up, pain-filled gaze locking with Bucky's.

"Okay. Alright." Bucky steps forward hesitantly, worried that Tony will stop him. "I'm staying," he assures.

Tony shoves away from the counter, abruptly closing the distance between them. He wraps his arms around Bucky's neck, levering himself up so that he can press a desperate kiss against Bucky's lips. Bucky holds on just as tight and returns the kiss.

It takes some time for Bucky to bring himself to break the kiss. He presses his forehead to Tony's, silently reassuring that he's not trying to pull away. When Tony's grip on him doesn't feel quite so desperate, Bucky brushes a chaste kiss against Tony's cheek. Bucky has _hope_ , but God, he's still scared. 

"You don't have to promise me anything," he says cautiously. He isn't sure he can bear to have a promise made in desperation fall apart when Tony's mind is clearer.

Tony huffs quietly at that. He leans back slightly, just enough that he can catch Bucky's gaze. "Won't make promises I can't keep." He places a hand against Bucky's jaw and rubs his thumb gently over the swell of Bucky's cheek.

"I've been sure I lost you," Bucky admits, unable to keep his voice from breaking. He turns his head to kiss Tony's palm. "I couldn't stay if that happened."

"No, James, that's not gonna happen," Tony swears. "I'm—" He breaks himself off as his lips twist briefly in a grimace. "I think of _them_ and I'm _so angry_." The words come out like a hiss. His eyes squeeze shut, and Bucky can feel Tony's fingers curling into a fist against his back.

"I'm so sorry, Sweetheart..." Bucky murmurs. He rubs his hand soothingly along Tony's back.

Tony trembles minutely in his arms, and Bucky can see the flex of his jaw muscles as he tries to control himself. Tony swears harshly under his breath and shakes his head. "Don't let him ruin this." The words are half plea and half demand. He opens his eyes and fixes Bucky with a determined glare. " _You_ didn't lie to me."

"I meant everything I've said," Bucky confirms. He tightens his arms around Tony's back. He was so close to losing this, so close to walking away out of fear.

"I'll stay," Bucky promises. Heart in his throat, he adds, "Long as you'll have me."

Tony sucks in a sharp breath. He leans back a little and stares searchingly at Bucky.

Licking his lips, Bucky explains, "If I hafta... I'll start again. I don't wanna lose you." He dips his head to kiss the inside of Tony's wrist. If he's given the chance, he'll do whatever it takes to do things right.

The sharp lines of Tony's expression soften. He brings his other hand up so that he's cradling Bucky's face. "You don't have to, James. Fuck 'em. I _know_ you, and I'll be damned if I let that bastard make me doubt you." He presses up into a kiss, less desperate than before. Their lips slide together, languid little toothless nips. 

Bucky feels light-headed, dazed by the implication of trust despite everything that has happened.

The voice in the back of his mind since the beginning, warning of disaster and dangerous mistakes, finally seems to quiet. _We'll make it work,_ he pushes the sentiment at his doubts. He won't settle for anything less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not in love with the ending, but the final scene kept kicking my ass for weeks. They deserve a super fluffy cuddles-filled epilogue, it's just not something that's written for now.
> 
> I know there will be people who are disappointed with skipping a face-off with Maximoff and lack of detail regarding consequences for her and Steve. What I'd like to say on that is this: I always intended the focus to be on Bucky and Tony's relationship.
> 
>  **Future potential** : I would like to do a story or two from other POVs to clear up some of the other things going on in the background. (Tony POV of events around the Revelations scenes; backstory on Natasha's return when Ross is out of the picture; extended Barton Family Feels; a kinda cute Rogue and Bucky interaction...)

**Author's Note:**

> Gazillion thanks to the AMAZING support through kudos, comments (so many comments!), bookmarks, and subscriptions. This has broken all sorts of records in my stats and it's been amazing tracking the progress :o
> 
> And I cannot thank Aliska enough. For the tears, yells, cheers, and everything else. (So much salt.) Thank you for being an inspiration to write and write _more_.


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